I'm Not a Girl Not Yet a Werewolf
by starlitjustice
Summary: I thought that this was the year of change. Little did I know that this was the year of werewolves, hunters, Derek Hale, Alphas, and a whole lot more lying than I was used to. Girl!Stiles
1. Chapter 1

"C'mon Scott!" As I climbed up the steep hill, heading deeper into the Beacon Hills Preserve, I heard Scott wheezing behind me.

"Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?"

He leaned his weight against a tree and took a puff off of his inhaler. It was a valid point, but not valid enough to elicit an actual response from me. Not many of Scott's points were. When I reached the top of the hill, I saw what I was looking for. I dropped down to the ground behind a log, Scott following close behind.

The police force had flashlights that were scanning the forest for anything out of the ordinary. Like half of a corpse. Some men also had dogs; big, mean looking German Shepherds resisting the leashes they were bound by. I hated those dogs.

I took no time waiting for an invitation and sprinted straight for them. They must be close to finding the body, and I would be damned if I didn't find it first. Scott called after me as I raced ahead of him.

"Stiles! Stiles, wait!"

I didn't listen. I was so close I could almost taste it. Scott's calls became fainter and fainter until I could no longer hear him. It was then that I realized I had no idea where the hell I was. Trees surrounded me on all sides and the fog seemed thicker somehow. I spun in circles looking for my wheezy companion, when suddenly I was greeted by a set of fangs.

The shock knocked me on my ass. I hastily tried to scramble away from this fanged monster. It barked and growled at me, trying with all its might to escape its bonds in order to sink its teeth into me. I really did hate those damn dogs. A flashlight beam temporarily blinded me as I heard an officer's voice.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

"Wait," a familiar voice said, "this little delinquent belongs to me."

The beam of light left my field of vision and I could see the tired expression of my father. Thankfully he handed off his hellhound to another officer and I was able to get back on my feet. I was still out of breath from running and on the verge of a panic attack.

"Hey Dad," I said as nonchalantly as I could. "How are ya doing?"

"So," he said in his best Sheriff's voice, "do you listen in on all my phone calls?"

"No," I replied. Then I added, "Not the boring ones." He didn't seem amused. He never really did.

"And where's your usual partner in crime?" That didn't need any explanation.

"Who Scott? Scott's home. He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for first day back at school tomorrow." The Sheriff looked at me skeptically.

"It's just me. Out in the woods. Alone."

My dad nearly saw through the flat out lie, but it was hard to deceive parental authority when breathless. My dad swept his flashlight across the trees.

"Scott!" he called. "Scott, you out there?"

I silently prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't be caught. He'd better not be. It wasn't always that I was willing to take the fall for him. There was no noise coming from the trees and my dad didn't seem to spot him. He seemed satisfied as the Sheriff turned his attention back to me.

"Well young lady," he said as he grabbed me by the collar, "I'm gonna walk you back to your car and you and I are going to have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy."

He led me out of the woods, while Scott was still very much in them; both literally and metaphorically. I really did hope he knew his way around the forest. Otherwise, he was screwed.

We eventually made our way to the entrance of the preserve where my crappy blue jeep was parked. It was a surprise on my sixteenth birthday. Sure it was old and beat up, but that wasn't a bad thing. It had a lot of character. Plus it was the only thing my dad could afford at the time. The Sheriff let my shirt collar go and I was free to enter my vehicle. I tried to close the door, but my father's hand stopped it so he could continue to stare at me with those judging eyes.

"So explain to me," my father lectured, "on what gave you the bright idea to go out into the middle of the woods, the day before school starts, and look for the other half of a dead body?" As if what he had just said wasn't explanation enough. Of course he wouldn't see why I wanted to do it. I would probably never fully understand it myself. I brushed my bangs out of my face as I tried to come up with a decent response.

"You know," I said in my best Joker impression, "I just do things." The Sheriff rolled his eyes. Apparently he'd had enough of my smart-assery for one night.

He pointed at me and said, "This conversation isn't over," a phrase I've heard so many times before. I wished him good luck on his quest to find the rest of his corpse and promised to be asleep by the time he got home. I probably would be. Frankly, I was exhausted!

I started my car and pulled out of the wooded area of Beacon Hills. Place gave me the fucking creeps anyway, which brought me back to the question of why I wanted to go on this little excursion in the first place. When I had over heard the call come in about joggers finding half of a body in the woods, I knew it was worth checking out. But there was no way I was doing it without back up. That's how I found myself on the roof of Scott's house, planning on sneaking in, but instead being nearly assaulted by a baseball bat. Apparently Scott heard me and thought I was some sort of "predator." Sure it did take a little convincing, but I knew Scott would come with me. He was my best friend after all.

I eventually made it to my street farther in town and pulled into the short driveway of our house. Our house wasn't particularly big, but it did have a second story. I made sure to leave enough space so my dad could squeeze his police cruiser past my jeep and park it in the garage. I climbed out of my car and headed inside, making sure to lock the door behind me. My dad would be mad at me if I didn't.

I ran up the stairs and turned to enter my bedroom. After closing my door I flopped down on my bed, immediately taking out my phone. I dialed Scott. The phone rang for a few moments before going to Scott's incredibly old voicemail from the eighth grade. Seriously. He needed to change it. I tried his number again but still got nothing.

I was legitimately scared for my friend at this point. I didn't think he knew the Beacon Hills Preserve that well and wouldn't be able to find the route back to the entrance. His best bet was to keep heading East unit he hit the main road, but of course he didn't know that. Maybe he was still out there looking for the body. That was pretty unlikely since he wasn't too much of a thrill seeker when I wasn't around. I just hoped he would get out of there before he got attacked by a wild animal or something.

I threw my phone to the side and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a ratty t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants along the way. I stripped out of my normal clothes that were soaked with mud and sweat until I was just down to my panties. I threw on the t-shirt and sweats and almost instantaneously felt more comfortable. I leaned over the sink as I brushed my teeth and pulled my bangs out of my face with a barrette. They really were a hassle sometimes, but I was used to it.

I splashed some warm water on my face in order to try and remove some of the grime from the day. I was way too tired to want to take a shower. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My dark blond hair was a complete mess, but I didn't feel like brushing it. It wasn't really that hard to manage ever since I got a pixie cut. I wanted it real short, but I also wanted to have the swoop bangs. My dad was afraid I was becoming emo. It didn't help that I also decided to get a few more piercings; one in each of my ears above my first piercing on my lobe and one piercing in the cartilage of my left ear. I took out the barrette and let my hair fall down into my face. I was pale with no hope of ever being tan. Several moles speckled my face. Whenever anybody would ask about them I would tell them they were beauty marks. Because I was so fucking beautiful. So fuck you.

I exited the bathroom and checked my phone again. Nothing. _Oh well, Scott. Hope you haven't been eaten._ For the first time in a long time I decided to try and get some actual rest. I turned off my bedroom light and crawled under the covers. They were so warm and I was so sleepy-

I heard the police cruiser pull into the garage. I almost decided to ignore it, but my curiosity was spiked. I slinked out of bed and headed to the bannister just outside of my room. It overlooked the front door and the foyer. I saw my dad clomp in and sigh. That was answer enough for me, but I still had to ask.

"Did you find it?"

My dad didn't seem too surprised that I was still awake. He looked up at me while taking off his jacket. He shook his head. Well that was disappointing. He stomped over to the kitchen table and sat down putting his head in his hands. It was a very familiar mannerism, something I had seen all my life. I stepped down the stairs and decided to join him. I sat down at the chair to his right and he didn't object. I guess he really just wanted some family interaction right now. That wasn't something the Stilinski family was really known for, but I was willing to try.

"We're going to try again in the morning," my dad said, "but I don't know how much luck we're gonna have."

"Don't worry," I soothed, "I'm sure you're gonna find it."

I took his hand and gave him my most sincere smile. Neither of us were really comfortable with the gesture, but he did see that I was really making an effort here to be a good little daughter. He squeezed my hand and gave me a tired smile in return. He then let go of my hand and I knew that was the end of the family bonding for the evening.

"So," he said changing the subject, "are you ready for school tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I think so. I hope so."

"You gonna tryout again?" He looked at me earnestly.

"Of course, Dad." I turned away from his stare. I knew exactly what he was going to say. That I wasn't taking it seriously enough. That lacrosse wasn't a girl's sport.

"If you were really serious about this, you would be getting some rest." I looked back at him, starting to get pissed.

"Dad, I've never been more serious about anything else."

"I know, I know," he crooned. "But you really should be getting a good night's sleep. Like Scott." Oh yeah. Like Scott.

"You know what?" I rose from the table. "You're right. I'm gonna go do that right now." I walked away from him toward the stairs. The touching family moment was definitely ruined.

"Ok," he muttered, "night."

"Goodnight."

I walked swiftly up the stairs and entered my room, slamming the door a little too hard behind me. I knew I would feel bad about blowing him off in the morning, but right now I didn't care. I threw myself into bed, wrapping myself in the covers. He knew how much I wanted to be on the lacrosse team. He knew how hard I'd worked for it. He did want me to succeed, but he didn't think I would. Well that was fine. He was allowed to believe whatever he wanted. But I was going to prove him wrong. I, Stiles Stilinski, was going to be the first girl on the Beacon Hills lacrosse team. I closed my eyes and slipped into an uneasy sleep.

I woke to the sound of the Spice Girls. The familiar tune signified that I was getting a phone call. I searched around in bed looking for my phone under the sheets until I realized that its buzzing was coming from under the bed. It must have fallen off in the middle of the night. I groggily slid out of bed and onto the ground, grabbing my phone before it sent the caller to voicemail. It was Scott. Well, at least I knew he wasn't dead.

"Hey," I answered sleepily.

"You are never gonna believe what just happened to me," Scott rambled. "Also thanks for leaving me stranded in the woods. I almost died like three times. I should have just stayed home. You should have too because I know how much you-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," I said in a raspy voice. "Just slow down." I pulled the phone away from my ear in order to check the time. "It's six in the morning, dude. It's gonna be hard for me to process much of anything right now. So take it slower, alright? Also, I saved your ass from being grounded, so, you're welcome."

Scott was silent for a few beats and I gestured for him to continue, even though I was speaking to him on the phone.

"Ok," he finally said, "listen. I fell down a hill after...well, I'll tell you later. But after I fell down the hill, I saw something."

"Something."

"Yes," Scott continued. "Something. Some kind of animal. A big, scary looking animal." At this point I was fully awake because I knew exactly where this was going.

"What did the animal do, Scott?"

"It attacked me. It bit me."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I could hardly contain my excitement. I got dressed in a flash, putting on my usual get up; t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie. I nearly soaked myself in body splash and hoped it would be a good enough substitute for a shower. I brushed my teeth and hair and flew down the stairs. I was in such a rush that I didn't even remember I was supposed to be mad at my dad for not believing in my dreams. I wished him good luck on his search, grabbed my backpack and lacrosse stick, and headed out the door. All in all it took about ten minutes to get into my car. It didn't normally take to long for me anyway, but I was very eager to get to school and see this bite. Scott didn't seem too fazed about it, but there was no denying how unbelievably cool it was.

I drove at speeds that my father would have definitely disapproved of. I didn't care. I pulled into the parking lot at around 7:20. That was pretty early and almost no one was at the school yet. That was fine. I would wait. I would wait until Scott pulled up on his dinky little bicycle. That kid seriously needed his own car. The thing was, I hated waiting. I hated it so much. I always needed something for my mind to do. I suppose I could have let my mind wander, but there was no way of knowing if I would even remember what I was so excited about once Scott arrived. One of the perks of having ADHD. I could get distracted very easily. I took out a pill bottle from my backpack and popped a few adderall. Sure the stuff made me twitchy as fuck, but it did help keep my mind focused.

I glanced down at my phone again. 7:30. Another half hour. Great. I decided to pass the rest of the time by watching the first few minutes of an episode of Doctor Who. People slowly began to trickle into the school and I scanned the parking lot for my mauled friend. I put my phone away and decided to be somewhat social on my first day back. I caught up with a few of my other friends and found out which classes I had with who. Finally I spotted a familiar head of shaggy hair strolling out of the parking lot. I raced toward him with my most eager expression on my face.

"Ok," I said, "let's see this thing." He lifted up his shirt to reveal a shockingly large, bloodstained bandage. I reached a tentative hand toward it, but he pushed me away.

"Yeah," he said, "it was too dark to see much, but I think it was a wolf."

"A wolf bit you?" I snickered. "No, not a chance."

"Well I heard a wolf howling," he argued.

"No you didn't."

Scott laughed. "What do you mean no I didn't. How do you know what I heard?" I loved how out of touch Scott was. Or maybe I just had too many useless facts cluttering my brain. Either way I thought it was time to let Scott in on the truth.

"California doesn't have wolves," I said as though it was blatantly obvious. "Not in like 60 years."

"Really?" Scott's eyes widened.

"Yes, really. There are no wolves in California." Scott looked around and then leaned forward.

"We'll if you don't believe me about the wolf," Scott said, "then you are definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the body." My heart quite literally skipped a beat.

"Are you kidding me?" I couldn't help keep the smile off of my face. Why was I so excited about this?

"I wish, " Scott said distantly, "I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."

"Oh God," I chuckled. "That is freaking awesome. I mean this is seriously going to be the best thing that's happened to this town since-"

I saw her out of the corner of my eye and couldn't resist.

"-since the birth of Lydia Martin of course." She strode elegantly past me like some kind of model.

"Hey Lydia! You look like..." She didn't even make eye contact with me as she whisked her way into the school.

"...like you're going to ignore me. Bitch." I turned back toward Scott and knew the look of disgust was clear on my face. He snorted .

"Why do you hate her so much?" Out of all of the dumb questions Scott had asked, this had to be one of the dumbest.

"I don't know. She's arrogant, preppy, stuck-up, her boyfriend's a total dick; should I continue?"

Scott just shook his head and made his way toward the school. I followed close behind. Students flooded the hallways, already converging into tiny individual cliques. Scott and I pushed our way past a few confused Freshmen and headed to our first period class.

"So are you ready for tryouts?" Scott asked skeptically. I gave him my most assured look.

"Scott," I said as I put my arm around his shoulders, "this is the year. The year I change everything. The year I join the lacrosse team."

"First girl in the history of the school," Scott mumbled. I bore my eyes into him so he would know how serious I was.

"It's going to happen."

Scott just nodded. "You have the school handbook?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small blue book. I routinely flipped open to a page that had been repeatedly dog-eared.

"The list of school sports rules and regulations." I pointed to a small paragraph of text and recited it.

"'Any and all students willing to audition to take part in the Beacon Hills lacrosse team must be given as fair a chance as any other student. The selecting of team members must not be based on prejudices including race, gender, sexual orientation, or stature.'" I snapped the book shut with a smug look of triumph on my face.

"Coach has to let me try out." And he'd be damned if he didn't.

"Well you do play better than most guys on our team." Scott answered. "I sucked last year and I was still on the team." As a bench warmer. I didn't want to be a bench warmer. But maybe that was as good as it was going to get.

"But this year is going to be different for me too," Scott announced. "I'm going to make first line."

I just smiled.

We entered our first period class and found our assigned seats. Fortunately, Scott and I weren't too far away from each other. Our teacher, Mr. Wells, was very inclined to tell us about the about the body that was found in the woods. I gave Scott a knowing smile and he continued to say that a suspect was already in custody. I would have to ask my dad about it later. Mr. Wells also pointed out that the murder shouldn't distract us from the syllabus on our desk outlining the upcoming semester. The class groaned in unison as we took a look at the packet.

For some reason Scott seemed a little jumpy. He was looking around the classroom as if trying to find someone. He then focused his attention out the window and kept his gaze fixed there for some time. Maybe he was just nervous about lacrosse tryouts.

The only somewhat exciting event that happened during class was the arrival of a new student. She and our vice principal walked in during the beginning of class. He introduced her as Allison Argent. Allison made an awkward wave to the class and then proceeded to the back of the classroom. I gave her a small smile as she passed me and took her seat behind Scott. She was a very pretty girl with dark hair, flawless skin, and big brown eyes.

After sitting, Scott immediately turned around and handed her a pen. She gave a somewhat surprised look and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Thanks," she muttered with a smile. Scott just stared back her with a goofy grin. Nice flirting Scott.

The rest of the day passed dismally. We made our way from class to class, getting back into the swing of school. I wasn't really paying attention in any of my classes. All I could think about were the tryouts. I didn't know if I was ready. Hell, I didn't even know if I was going to be able to tryout. But eventually eighth period came and went and it was time. Scott took a particularly long time putting his stuff in his locker, so I took this as an opportunity to unload all of my thoughts.

"Coach better let me tryout," I said. "I've worked way too damn hard for this. And I'm a pretty decent lacrosse player. Putting me on the team would be the best decision that coach ever made."

Scott wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were focused across the hall to another set of lockers were the new girl was putting away her things. We had gone from awkward smiles to leering. Scott really new how to get the ladies. I decided to shut up and let Scott have this moment. It wasn't everyday my boy got a crush.

Suddenly Lydia descended onto Allison like a vulture swooping in on a carcass. I couldn't exactly hear what she was saying, but Lydia looked as prissy as ever. Just has she had flashed a very fake looking smile, Lydia's Neanderthal of a boyfriend decided to join them. Jackson Whittemore was the epitome of douchebaggery. He always had such a smug look on his face that you just wanted to smack off. He and Lydia basically ruled the school. They could make or break you. They had way too much power for their own good.

Jackson put his arm around Lydia and pulled her close to him. This normally would have been a romantic gesture, but Jackson made it look as though he was guarding one of his possessions. He leaned down and kissed Lydia. It also should have been a romantic gesture, but he wasn't doing it for love. He was doing it to show off. Fucking disgusting. Apparently Morgan, a girl we shared a few classes with, thought it was disgusting as well. She walked over to me and Scott, leaning her weight against the lockers.

"Can someone please explain to me," she said, "how New Girl is here all of five minutes and she is already hanging out with Lydia's clique?" The answer seemed obvious.

"It's because she's hot," I responded. Scott clearly didn't have any input to the conversation, as he was still staring stupidly at Allison. I continued.

"Beautiful people herd together."

"But that isn't true for everybody," Morgan argued. "There are plenty of cute girls in the school who don't hang out with Lydia."

"Oh yeah? Name one."

Morgan paused for a few seconds before finally saying, "You."

I just chuckled. "I rest my case."

"You going to lacrosse practice today?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not just going," I replied, "I'm trying out."

Morgan's eyes opened wide. "Coach is gonna let you?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I hope so. Actually, we should probably get going. Scott-"

Scott still stared at Allison, Lydia, and Jackson in some sort of trance. I snapped my fingers in front of his face.

"Hello? Scott?" He blinked a few times and turned to look at me. He still looked dumbfounded. I shook my head and began to make my way toward the locker rooms . Scott looked back at Allison a few times before following.

Scott and I separated as he entered the boy's locker room and I entered the girl's. Even though the boy's locker room was packed tight, I was the only person in the girl's. I stripped out of my normal clothes and put on my pads. I was probably the only girl in Beacon Hills to own a set. After exiting the locker room I caught up with Scott. I got a few strange looks on the way to the field that I tried to ignore. I couldn't help but entertain the idea that I was going to be benched for the entire season, if I even made the team.

"Scott," I said, "if you play, I'll have no one to talk to on the bench. Are you really going to do that to your best friend?"

"I can't sit out again," Scott announced. "My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season I make first line. And you make the team!" Scott bumped my shoulder reassuringly and gave me that stupid smile of his that said "everything is going to be great." Sure it was.

"McCall!" Coach Finnstock approached us now and shoved a goalie's stick into Scott's chest.

"You're in goal."

"But I've never played," Scott protested.

"I know," Coach smirked. "Scoring some shots will give the boys confidence boost. First day back thing. Get em energized. Fired up!"

"What about me?" Scott asked. Very good question.

Coach just smiled and said, "Try not to take any in the face." Then he gave Scott a light smack on the cheek and walked back toward the team. It was a surprise that I didn't end Coach right there.

"Fucking asshole," I muttered.

"It's ok," Scott reassured. "He thinks I'm going to suck but I'm not. Putting me in goal is the perfect way to show I'm not just a one trick pony."

"Scott," I said, "you're a no trick pony."

"Rude," Scott said, his eyes on Coach. "I'm gonna show him. I'm gonna show you."

And with that Scott quickly strode toward the goal. I shook my head and sat down on the bench, nervously chewing at the fingertips of my gloves. I didn't want Scott to fail. He needed this. He needed some way to earn his confidence. I hoped he would make the best goalie ever. I hoped Coach put him on first line. I hoped that he and New Girl ended up together. I hoped he would get to have almost everything I probably never would in high school. Because I cared about Scott. I loved Scott. He was the closest thing I had to a brother.

Scott took his position in goalie and gave me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture with a very clear "oh, shit" look on my face. His eyes then slid to the stands and I didn't even have to turn around to know that he was looking at Allison. He was so predictable. Suddenly the referee blew his whistle. Scott clutched his head as if an explosion had just gone off near him. He dropped the stick completely just as one of the guys launched a ball square at his head.

_C'mon Scott_,_ I thought, pick up the stick. Play the game. Succeed for once_.

The ball hit him directly in the face and he sprawled backwards, landing painfully on his back. Well so much for being the best goalie ever. There was always next year, Scott. Coach and the rest of the team laughed as Scott picked himself up off of the ground. Those little shits. I would show them a thing or two about dignity when I got the chance. I tried to give Scott my most supportive look, but I'm sure it just came off as "I told you so."

Scott shook his head as he looked back toward the field and the line of lacrosse players wanting to see him eat it. The next shot was made by a Junior. It wasn't a particularly strong shot, but knowing Scott's goaltending skills, it should have easily made its way into goal. But it was stopped by Scott. The ball landed safely in the net of his stick. Scott looked at it in disbelief, as did I. Was this pure luck or the beginning of all the changes we had been raving about? Either way I was extremely proud of Scott and cheered him on.

Scott smiled as he got a better grip on his stick. He seemed more confident already. The players continued to take their shots at the goal and Scott continued to block every single one. He moved with expert agility as he pivoted his body in just the right angle to block each shot. I had never seen this clumsy and awkward boy move so gracefully before. Maybe this was the year of change. Maybe Scott was a good omen for my chances at making it onto the team. Maybe-

Jackson pushed the next player out of the way, very clearly wanting to take his shot at Scott. Oh, fuck.

"C'mon Scott, c'mon," I muttered as Jackson took a running start at the goal.

Jackson may have been a grade-A dick, but he was a damn good lacrosse player. He was the captain after all. I couldn't really see Scott's face past the helmet, but I was sure he was terrified. Jackson took giant bounding steps before leaping into the air. He swung his lacrosse stick at a very sharp angle and the ball went hurtling toward the goal. It was probably one of the most powerful shots I had seen from him.

Scott reacted quickly. He brought his stick around and lunged forward in time with the ball. To everyone's amazement, he blocked the shot easily. I couldn't help but jump up from the bench and burst into cheers for my friend. The small crowd joined in with me, because, wow. Just wow. I had never witnessed Scott do anything so incredibly amazing in my life. Jackson just hung his head in shame. Scott had shamed him. Scott tossed the ball, without even looking, toward the referee. The ball landed snuggly in his stick. Ok, now he was just showing off.

Coach called Scott out of the goal, still completely in shock. He didn't say a word to Scott about what had just happened. He just patted him on the shoulder and sent him back toward the benches. Scott approached me triumphant.

"So?" He asked with a smile. "How did I do?"

"I-I," I couldn't even form words. "That. Was. Incredible. How did you even do that?"

"I don't know!" Scott exclaimed. "It just happened. Look I'll talk to you about it later. Now it's your time to shine." He gave me a small hug as Coach walked toward the benches.

"How am I going to top that?" I pointed out. Scott shrugged.

"Ok," Coach said still looking dumbfounded. "I need some volunteers for a quick scrimmage." I and a few other guys got up off of the bench. The sight of me heading toward the field seemed to snap Coach back to his normal self.

"Stilinski!" he shouted. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

It was now or never.

"Uh," I stuttered. "I'm, uh, going to try out." Coach laughed in my face.

"No you're not," he chuckled. Then he became more serious. Well, as serious as he could be. "Lacrosse is for boys only! Even if you dress like a boy and hang out with one, it doesn't make you one! Got it?" He turned to return to the field.

"Coach!" I called, fumbling for the handbook. "Lacrosse isn't just for boys. In the handbook it says that girls are allowed to try out, too." I held out the book in order to try and show Coach the text, but I almost dropped it my hands were shaking so bad. Why was I so fucking nervous?

Coach didn't even want to look at me. I followed close behind him with the book outstretched.

"Sir, please look."

Ignoring me still, he called the boys to get in position.

"Coach?"

"Alright," he shouted, "I want blue jerseys on the right side of the field. No Greenberg! I said-"

"COACH, LISTEN!"

He finally turned to look at me, his expression a mix between amusement and blistering rage. But I wasn't scared to do this anymore. I was just pissed.

"Coach, look at this and then tell me what I can and cannot do."

After a few beats Coach snatched the small blue book from my hand. He eyed me skeptically and then looked down at the pages. He mouthed softly as he read and I stood next to him with my arms crossed. He eventually closed the book and looked at me with annoyance in his eyes. He slowly handed it back to me.

"It doesn't matter," he said in an unusually quiet voice. "There has never been a girl on the Beacon Hills lacrosse team in the history of the school. And as long as I am coach, there never will be." He turned back toward the field. I wasn't done yet.

"Well, we could always take this up with the principal," I threatened. "Or better yet, we could go to the School Board. They did have an entire seminar about sexism in our local schools. I'm sure that a nice lawsuit would look great on your record. Right next to the DUIs and unpaid parking tickets."

When I say that the silence was deafening, I mean it. Everybody was staring at the two of us. No one, not even anyone in the stands, was making a peep. I could feel Scott's worried eyes on me, but I didn't turn to look at him. I just kept my glare fixed on Coach. When I was determined to do something, I was a force to be reckoned with and Coach knew it. We just stared at each other for sometime before Coach finally spoke.

"Get the hell on the field," he said quietly.

It was as if this weight had been lifted off of my chest. I breathed out a sigh of relief. This was everything that I had been working up to and it finally paid off.

"Are you serious?" I said in quiet disbelief.

"Just get on the field before I change my mind," Coach answered. "And all of you." He looked at the silent crowds. "What the hell are you all staring at. This is a lacrosse practice. Let's go!" He clapped his hands and the world seemed to resume motion. Like, nothing to see here. Just history in the making.

I stepped onto the field and placed my helmet over my head. It all felt so weird. This was the moment that I had been dreaming of for so long and now that it was here I felt like I was going to throw up. Jackson was still on the field. Even though the rest of the guys would be a little nervous about tackling a girl, Jackson wouldn't be afraid to rough me up a bit. Because he was a jerk. But also because I think he respected me. Weird.

I joined the rest of the team that were wearing blue jerseys and joined the huddle. Jackson was captain of our little squad. Of course. He barked out a few orders that I didn't quite understand and told me to stick close to our goal. So basically keep out of the way.

I took my position on the field and legitimately gulped. The seconds seemed like hours until the referee blew his whistle. After he did, it all moved too fast. Our team already had the ball and was heading toward the other goal. I followed but managed to keep my distance. I took just a few more steps forward before my teammate with the ball was tackled by about four guys. They fell at my feet and my heart was pounding. I looked at Scott sitting on the benches. I desperately needed some encouraging. Unfortunately, Scott wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were fixed on Allison talking to Lydia in the stands. Way to be there, Scott.

"Stiles!" The shout brought me back to the reality. Jackson looked at me extremely annoyed.

"If you want to be on the team," he barked, "you have to get your head in the game."

I nodded like an idiot and he rolled his eyes. I heard the whistle blow again and the game was in motion. I was more focused now, despite everything, and kept my eyes on the ball quite literally. Somehow, Jackson made a bad pass and the ball landed directly at my feet. Which was weird. Did Jackson do that on purpose? Is he giving me a chance to show off? I didn't really have time to think about that because a herd of lacrosse players was now barreling towards me. I scooped up the ball in the net of my stick and ran.

I easily maneuvered my way around the first few guys. It did help that they seemed to be very hesitant about knocking me to the ground. The next guy actually did try to block me, but I ducked around him. I was in clear view of the goal now. Several of the other blue jerseys were open and expecting me to pass the ball to them. But I wouldn't. This was my chance. My opportunity to prove that I was a lacrosse player. Some of the other team was gaining on me now and I had to make my shot. It was now or never. I hurled the ball forward with all of my might. I tried to put a bit of a curve on it so it would spin into the goal. The ball seemed to be heading straight for the goalie's stick, but at just the last moment it curved to the right. It missed the stick by just a hair and flew into the net.

The crowd on the stands, especially the girls, began to cheer. I looked over and Scott was looking at me now. He was standing and cheering and beaming and he just looked so proud. I smiled at him before I got a few pats on the back from a few of the people wearing blue jerseys, even a few who were wearing red. I got several compliments and remarks.

"Good job, Stiles!"

"Way to go Stilinski!"

"I didn't know you were a girl!"

I looked over at Coach, but his face was unreadable. He didn't seem impressed or angry or anything. He just kept his expression blank and shouted at the team to get back into position. I retreated back and got a very respectful glare from Jackson. This was probably as close as we were ever going to get and that was fine with me. Even though we might respect each other as lacrosse players, we certainly didn't respect each other as human beings.

As the game continued I managed to score a few more times and our team even won. After the scrimmage I was sweaty, out of breath, but totally exhilarated. I walked over to the bench where Scott encircled me in a bear hug.

"I told you," he said when he had released me, "this is the year of change."

"Maybe now I believe you," I admitted. It was true that things were changing. I mean, Scott was actually good at lacrosse, Coach actually let me try out, and me and Jackson had a sort of respect for each other. Could things get any weirder?


	3. Chapter 3

"You wanted to see me, Coach?"

I entered his office very sheepily. Coach was sitting at his desk looking through some papers. His desk and walls were covered in athletic awards. A small diploma hung on the wall in a frame. I was pretty sure he'd bought it off the Internet. When Coach said he wanted to talk to me after practice, I had no idea what to expect. Was he going to congratulate me or scold me?

"Yeah, Stilinski," he said. "Come in. And, hey! Close the door."

I had left it open on purpose as I knew Scott was lurking somewhere nearby. He was just as nervous about this as I was. I wanted to give him some way of listening in on our conversation, but I guess my efforts were for naught. I let the door swing behind me and stepped forward to receive my fate.

"So," I said, "is this about practice? Did I make the team or...?"

Coach sighed and pushed his papers aside. He looked up at me and his eyes said it all. It still hurt when he said it, though.

"You didn't make the team."

I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes, but I wouldn't cry. Not yet. I was trying to prove I wasn't the typical girl. I was tough. I was strong. I was a lacrosse player.

"Coach," I muttered. "I don't understand. I don't want to sound conceited, but I was great out there. You can't just not put me on the team because I'm a girl."

"It's not about that!" Coach snapped. "Sure, I will admit you got some pretty decent shots out there. But the only reason you pulled off half of the stuff you did was because the other guys were _afraid_ to hit you."

"If they're afraid to hit me, that's their own problem!"

"I can't make a proper decision based off of my team half-assing it when you're on the field!" His eyes told me he wasn't going to budge. Well neither was I.

"You can't do this," I said quietly. The tears were threatening to overflow. "I've worked so hard for this. I'm a good lacrosse player."

"Yes, you are." Coach admitted. "But I'm sorry. My decision is final."

My breaths were starting to become ragged. I couldn't cry, not in front of him. I had to get out of there.

"Alright," I whispered. "Thanks for everything."

I wanted to flip him off, but I resisted the urge. I quickly exited his office, looking for a nice spot to sit down and ball my eyes out. How could he? That sexist bastard. He knew I would be good for the team, but he couldn't possible let someone with a vagina on the team. That was absurd! Only the manliest of men were capable of playing lacrosse. Well, that was fine. I didn't care.

I decided to sit down behind the stairs. I knew the school was pretty much empty, but I still didn't want anyone, especially Scott, finding me. I hugged my knees close to my chest and burst into tears. I cared so much. This was everything to me. My chance at actually being someone. If Scott could live out his dreams, why couldn't I?

"It's bullshit," I managed to sputter out.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my hoodie. I knew Scott would be looking for me and I didn't want him to see me in this state. I would tell him that Coach decided I wasn't good enough for the team and that would be it. No tears would be shed. I would continue to be the very strong and emotionally sound person Scott had always known me to be. I stood up and brushed the dust off of my jeans. I was surprised when I saw Scott standing in the middle of the hallway when I came out from behind the stairs.

"Hey," he said, "I've been looking for you." I expected him to have some kind of smile on his face, but he looked just as sullen as I felt. Did he hear me crying? Oh shit, he heard me crying.

"So what did Coach say?"

"Well," I sighed, "he said I didn't make it." I shrugged. No big deal. Just all of my hopes and dreams being crushed.

"Oh," he said. "Well, I was going to ask you to give me a ride somewhere, but you don't have to if you don't feel like it."

"No," I interjected. "It's fine. I'm fine. I will take you wherever you need to go."

"Ok. I need you to take me back to the Preserve. I lost my inhaler last night. My mom will kill me If I don't find it."

"Hey," I said already feeling better, "do you remember where you found the body last night?"

"No, no way Stiles!"

"Oh, come on!" I whined. "I need something to cheer me up."

"A dead body will cheer you up?"

"You know it."

Scott sighed. "Fine. But we are telling the cops if we find it."

"_When_ we find it," I corrected, "my dad will be the first person I call." Maybe today wasn't going to be the worst day of my existence after all.

We hopped in my jeep and started our drive toward the Preserve. Oh what mischief would we get ourselves into today? Scott kept awkwardly glancing at me during the whole drive. I checked my reflection in the rear-view mirror. It wasn't obvious I was crying, but still.

"Ok," I asked, "what's up? You keep staring at me. How much did you hear?"

Scott was silent for a moment before saying, "All of it."

I looked at him strangely. "All of it? Even the stuff in Coach's office?"

Scott nodded somberly.

"I'm so sorry, Stiles."

"Scott," I sighed, "don't be. If you somehow managed to hear all of it, then you probably heard my mental breakdown behind the stairs." His face told me he did. "Well, it's just a chick thing. Sometimes we just need to release our emotions in the most violent way possible. I'm fine really. Now enough about me. Let's talk about you."

"What about me," Scott asked innocently enough.

"Those moves!" I elaborated. "How did you even do that?" We were pulling into the Preserve by now. We exited the vehicle and began to tromp our way through the woods. It wasn't as ominous during the day.

"I don't know what it was," Scott finally said. "It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing. I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Like, I could hear your heartbeat when you were on the field."

"Scott," I snorted, "That's impossible."

"I know! But I could. And I can smell things."

"Smell things? Like what?"

"Like," Scott thought out loud. "Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket."

I stuck a hand in my pocket. "I don't even have any mint mojito-"

I pulled out a small piece of gum wrapped in paper. Ok that was weird. I forgot that was in there. Scott just held out his hands as if to say "I told you." The cogs of my mind were beginning to turn and I could feel the adderall wearing off.

"So all of this started with a bite?" I speculated.

"What if it's an infection?" Scott worried. "Like my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"

This was all a little strange, I would admit, but it seemed as though Scott was blowing this all out of proportion. My mind bounced from one idea to the next, gathering all of these "symptoms" and trying to link them to something. The heightened senses, agility, strength. I mean, the way he was describing it, it almost sounding like he was a-

Oh, this was too good.

"You know what," I said, "I actually think I've heard of this. Yeah, it's a specific kind of infection." Scott turned to me, mouth open.

"You serious?"

"Yeah," I assured him. "I think it's called 'lycanthropy'"

"What's that?" Scott asked alarmed. "Is that bad?"

"Oh yeah," I replied, "it's the worst. But only once month."

Scott looked confused. "Once a month?"

I nodded. "Yeah, on the night of the full moon." I made a little howl. Scott shook his head and pushed me in the chest.

"Hey," I laughed, "you're the one who heard a wolf howling." I caught up with Scott who did not look amused.

"There could be something seriously wrong with me!"

"I know!" I agreed. "You're a werewolf!" Scott rolled his eyes and kept walking.

"Ok," I said, "I'm obviously kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all of the silver I can find, it's because Friday's the full moon." Werewolf. Yeah right.

Scott stopped walking and stared at the ground in confusion.

"I could have sworn this was it," Scott muttered. "I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler-" Scott bent down and searched through the leaves. I looked around the forest. We were totally alone.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," I suggested.

"If he did I hope he left my inhaler," Scott said. "Those things are like 80 bucks."

I rolled my eyes and decided to scan the forest again. Just as I brought my eyes past Scott, I saw something.

"Oh shit!"

A man. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw him. The forest was completely empty two seconds ago. Now there stood a man clad in a leather jacket. A very tall, very muscular, very good looking man I might add. And then I recognized him. I slapped Scott on the shoulder and he turned around to see him. The man, Derek Hale, quickly advanced on us.

"What are you doing here?" he asked very sinisterly. "This is private property."

"Uh," I stammered, "sorry, man, we didn't know." He looked us both over with scrutiny. Although he was very scary to say the least, he was still very sexy. I mean, goddamn, he was attractive.

"Yeah we were just," Scott added, "just looking for something, but, forget it."

So fast that I wasn't sure he did it, Derek tossed something toward Scott. He caught it and opened his hand to see that, lo and behold, it was his inhaler. It was no dead body, but at least the trip wasn't a total waste. Derek turned and walked back the way he had come. Well that encounter was sufficiently terrifying. And easy on the eyes.

"Come on," Scott said hazily, "I gotta get to work."

"Dude," I said, "that was Derek Hale!" Scott shook his head confused.

"You remember right? He's only a few years older than us."

"Remember what?" Scott asked.

"His family," I indicated. "They all burned to death in a fire like 10 years ago."

"Wonder what he's doing back."

I shrugged. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

We walked back to my car in silence. I allowed Scott some time to think, as he didn't do much of it in his teenage years. I also gave myself some time to think. Derek Hale? Back in Beacon Hills? Why? If I remembered the police report correctly, his sister became his legal guardian and they moved away only a few days after the fire. They didn't arrange funeral plans or make plans to sell their house. They just up and left. The police report wrote the fire off as an accident, but a few people thought there was something more to it. I was included in that few. I don't know why, but it was now my job to find out why the brooding, attractive, Derek Hale had returned to Beacon Hills.

I glanced at Scott. Werewolf. Why was that word striking such a chord with me? When we eventually made it back to the jeep and began the drive to the vet where Scott worked, it was all I could think about. It was absurd to actually entertain the idea that my theory might be correct. I mean, werewolves? Come on, Stiles. It makes no sense. Werewolves aren't real! They couldn't be. Could they?

I dropped Scott off at the vet and unloaded his bike from the back of my car. I told him I would call him later if I got the chance. I didn't know if I would though because I drove straight to the library and checked out every book they had on werewolves. I kept calling myself a crazy person as I drove home, a stack of books on mythical lore in my passenger seat. When I got home, I first brought in my book bag and lacrosse stuff, leaving the books for a second trip. I then returned to the car for the tower of books. My dad watched with confusion the whole time.

"What are all of those?"

"Uh," I scrambled for a response. "Books. For, uh, a research project. Yep."

"Uh-huh," my dad grunted. "And do you need a hand?"

"Um, I'm good, thanks." Before I could make it to the stairs, my dad brought his hand down upon the pile of books and picked up the one on top.

"'Werewolves: A Field Guide to Shapeshifters, Lycanthropes, and Man-Beasts'?" My dad stared at me waiting for an explanation.

"Personal interest."

My dad nodded and placed the book back onto the pile. I stepped tentatively up the stairs, being careful not to let any of the books come tumbling down.

"So," my dad called, "what happened at the lacrosse tryouts?"

Really? He had to bring that up now? I was just getting over it with my strange new curiosity of the supernatural.

"He let me tryout," I said.

"And?" my father prodded.

"I did good," I supplied. Please don't ask for more than that. Please.

"But are you on the team?" Fuck.

"Um," I stalled. "He said, uh, not at this time. No, dad. I didn't make the team." I was just outside of my room now, but I had stopped in order to try and keep my composure. It was bad enough Scott heard me cry. I didn't want my dad to as well. My father started to say something, but I ignored it and entered my room. I swung the door closed with my foot and leaned against the door frame. The lacrosse tryouts didn't matter, I had to keep telling myself. What mattered was that I knew I was good at lacrosse and now the rest of the school did too.

I let the stack of books fall onto my bed and I fell back into my desk chair. Was I really about to read and research all these things about werewolves just because I made a joke about it to my friend earlier in the woods before being reprimanded by the world's scariest male model? The answer was "yes". Yes I was.


	4. Chapter 4

_I ran for my life. Trees whipped past me as I sprinted with all I had. I could only hear my heavy breathing and the leaves crunching under my foot. Well, that wasn't exactly true. I could still hear his bones. I could still see Scott, my best friend, bend backwards in agony as the light of the full moon caused him to change. His spine cracked and he screamed as I watched in horror, unable to do anything to help my friend. He turned to look at me and his eyes pleaded for the end. But then they began to change. His pupils dilated so much so that even the whites of his eyes were consumed by a complete blackness. His screams morphed into a hideous howl. He no longer looked at me for help. He looked at me now with razor sharp fangs bared, the urge to kill apparent in his inhuman eyes._

_And so I ran. I ran for my life. Unable to save my dearly loved friend, I ran from the monster he had become. I couldn't hear anything besides my own breathing and the leaves. But then I could. I could hear the sound of that vicious animal gaining on me. I screamed as I ran, tears running down my face. What was this thing? I turned to look and yelped in despair. It was no longer Scott. This creature could have never been human. I ran face first into a tree and I was trapped. I leaned my back against the tree as the creature slowly advanced on me, low growls escaping between clenched teeth. It got back up on two legs and put a clawed hand to my throat. Its fangs were so close to my face that I could feel its breath._

_"Scott," I begged, "please."_

_I was in complete hysterics because I knew this monster couldn't be reasoned with. It wasn't my friend anymore. The creature roared as its claws tore out my throat._

My eyes sprang open and I gasped for air. My father was standing over me looking exceedingly worried. I was so sweaty and out of breath that I could have sworn that I had actually ran from...whatever that was. My bed was completely covered in books and I looked to see one was open next to me. It depicted a Central African myth of a shape-shifting, wolf-like creature. I must have fallen asleep reading it. It was the thing Scott had turned into in my dream. In my nightmare.

"Stiles," my father demanded, "are you alright? You're burning up!" He put his hand on my forehead.

"I think so," I whimpered. I wiped my eyes and wasn't too surprised to feel tears on my cheeks.

"I came in when you didn't answer," my dad explained. "It looked like you were crying in your sleep. So I tried to wake you up."

"Dad, you're not supposed to wake someone up if they're having a night terror." Although you weren't supposed to remember night terrors. And I could remember every second of mine.

My father picked up the open book and frowned. "I knew that these would give you nightmares."

"Dad, really," I assured him, "I'm fine. You know me. Just an overactive imagination." I quickly grabbed the book back from him and snapped it shut. The creature didn't even match any of Scott's symptoms anyway.

"Are you sure you're able to go to school today?"

"Yes!" I shouted at my father. Then in a more quiet voice, "I'm sorry. Just a little jumpy. Just need something to take my mind off of it. How's it going with the body?"

"You wake up from a nightmare and want to talk about a dead body?" my father asked dubiously.

"Nothing like the cold slap of death to bring you back to reality," I said with a smile.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "Well, there hasn't been much luck on finding the other half, but we began analysis on the half we do have. I'm pretty sure it's going to be written off as an accident. We found animal hair on the body."

I was frozen with renewed curiosity. My dad obviously took this as his cue to leave, thinking my silence meant I had lost interest. Oh, quite the contrary.

"What kind of animal hair?" I asked just as he had reached my bedroom door.

"Wolf hair," he answered before leaving.

I took some time before I was able to get out of bed and start getting ready. Wolf hair? What did it mean? The dream didn't mean anything. It was my own imagination. But the hair. That was real. That was hard evidence. Maybe Scott had been right. Maybe a wolf had found its way back to Beacon Hills to relive the glory days. Maybe, starved for food, it had attacked Scott hoping for an easy meal. But Scott did hear it howling. According to my research last night, that meant another one, maybe a whole pack, could have been close. Whatever the logical conclusion was to this mystery of ours, I had to keep telling myself one thing: My friend wasn't a werewolf. Because werewolves didn't exist.

I took a handful of adderall and left my house. On the drive to school I couldn't help but feel anxious about seeing Scott. That image of him from my nightmare still gave me chills. But it was just a dream and Scott was my best friend. He had called me from work the previous night, raving about how Allison had agreed to go to Lydia's party with him. He sounded like such a little schoolgirl. How could someone like that be a vicious monster? I would have to tell him straight away about the whole wolf hair thing. It meant that he was right and wolf had probably attacked him. Or possibly a werewolf. No. My friend wasn't a werewolf. Because werewolves didn't exist.

The first eliminations of lacrosse tryouts were today and I knew Scott would already be on the field. Even though it should have given me immense pain to go out to the field and see Coach's smug little face, my mind was elsewhere. I saw Scott getting ready over by the bench. I knew once he was on the field, I wasn't going to get another chance to talk to him. I had to make this fast.

"Scott!" I called as I raced for him. I grabbed him before he left.

"Stiles, I'm playing the first elimination," Scott complained. "Can it wait?"

"Just hold on, ok?" I took a deep breath before continuing. "My dad talked to me this morning. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in LA. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods!" Scott didn't even pay attention as he grabbed the rest of his stuff.

"Stiles," he mumbled, "I gotta go." And then he ran out toward the field.

"Scott wait!" I yelled at him. "You're not gonna believe what the animal was!"

He was already on the field when I said quietly, "It was a wolf."

I stomped over to the bleachers and sat down with a thud. I couldn't believe Scott was so obsessed with lacrosse now that he wouldn't even listen to his best friend. Coach had the boys in a semicircle around him as he gave some sort of "motivating" speech. I looked at Scott. He seemed completely human. Not the monster I had seen. Werewolf. What was I thinking?

The semicircle of lacrosse players broke into two small teams. It was red versus black today. Scott was wearing red. Jackson was wearing black. This was going to be interesting. The whistle blew and the scrimmage began. Red had the ball now and was passing it back and forth until it reached Scott's stick. He stood there dazed for a moment before running and being knocked down by Jackson. Now, that was the Scott I had come to know and love. Jackson walked away like the prick he was and Scott got up angrily. Hopefully that little good luck streak from yesterday wasn't wearing off now.

Scott and Jackson went head to head now for the ball. The ball sat between both of their sticks on the ground. The whistle blew and Jackson went to claim the ball. Unfortunately, Scott already had it and was running. A black defender tried to hold him up and he sidestepped around him. Another was on right, but Scott quickly passed the lacrosse stick to his left hand and narrowly fit past the guard. The crowd seemed shocked and awed. I had never seen anyone do that on our team before. How had Scott known how to do that? A wall of three black jerseys cut him off and I knew that was the end of the line. At least it should have been. Scott propelled himself into the air and did a frontflip over them. Seriously. A freaking frontflip. How?

Scott made his shot and the ball landed in the goal easily. The crowd went nuts. Scott seemed pretty proud of himself. He had just pulled off the impossible. Scott was mobbed by a swarm of red jerseys as the black jerseys threw down their sticks in defeat. Coach called him over.

"McCall! Get over here!" Scott took off his helmet and jogged over to Coach as his team still celebrated.

"What in God's name was that?" Coach demanded to know. "This is a lacrosse field! What are you trying out for the gymnastics team?"

"No Coach," Scott answered stiffly.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," Scott replied. "I was just trying to make the shot."

"Yeah, well you made the shot," Coach scoffed. "And guess what? You're starting, buddy. You made first line."

The people in the bleachers all rose to their feet, celebrating Scott's achievement. It was weird how I was the only one not standing or clapping, seeing how I was the only person in this school who gave a damn about Scott a week ago. But as Scott smiled and laughed and looked to me for praise, I was silent. What Scott had just done was impossible. _Impossible_. No amount of scientific research could explain what he had just done. It wasn't drugs; I knew that for a fact. Scott was making me question everything I had ever known to be real. What he had just done was impossible, yet he did it. It made me start to think what other impossible things could be true. Like werewolves. Werewolves were impossible. So was Scott. It was a match.

I left while the crowd still cheered and Scott still rejoiced in his triumph. I sent him a quick text in my jeep, telling him to meet me at my house in an hour. He replied with _ok_ and a question mark. My dad wasn't home yet and I was happy about that fact. I couldn't be bothered to deal with him at the moment. Which made me sound like a horrible person. I didn't really care. I was pretty sure my friend was a fucking werewolf. I continued my research right where I had left off. Lycaon, wolfsbane, silver bullets. It was funny to think that all of this might be real.

I found descriptions of a werewolf in a book from a library that was a perfect match for everything that was happening to Scott. The heightened senses, ability to perform near impossible feats, improved health. Had Scott used his inhaler since that night? The book said the creature's appearance didn't differ too wildly from a human being. Just a distorted face, extra hair growth, and claws. So not the freaking terrifying monster from my dream. But still terrifying nonetheless. I nearly hit the ceiling when a knock came from my bedroom door. I got up to open it. Scott stood there with the stupidest grin I had ever seen from him. Clearly he was still in a great mood. _Sorry to ruin your afternoon Scott, but there's a full moon tonight and I'm not reliving my nightmares._

"Get in," I ordered. Scott waltzed in like he owned the place. Smug much?

"I've been up all night," I rambled. "Reading. Websites. Books. All this information."

"How much adderall have you had today?" Scott joked.

"A lot," I admitted. "Doesn't matter. Just listen."

"This about the body?" Scott asked as he sat on my bed, pushing papers and books out of the way. "Did they find who did it?"

"No," I sighed. "They're still questioning people. Even Derek Hale." The extremely hot Derek Hale. Wasn't I supposed be obsessed with his mystery instead of werewolves?

"That guy we saw in the woods the other day?"

"Yes, but that's not it!" I snapped.

"What then?" Scott asked.

"You remember that joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore." Scott was silent, so I continued.

"The wolf, the bite in this woods. I started doing all this reading. Do you even know why a wolf howls?"

"Should I?"

"It's a signal," I explained. "When a wolf's alone it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means there could have been others nearby, maybe a whole pack of them."

"A whole pack of wolves?" Scott exclaimed.

Time for the revelation. "No. Werewolves."

Scott's face melted into a mask of annoyance. "Are you seriously wasting my time with this?"

"Scott," I said, "I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

"You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour," Scott said as he gathered his things.

"I saw you on the field today Scott," I said, putting a hand on Scott's chest. "What you did wasn't just amazing; it was impossible."

"So I made a good shot," Scott mumbled as he tried to leave. I grabbed his backpack and threw it onto my bed.

"No, you made an incredible shot. The way you moved; your speed, your reflexes! People can't just suddenly do that overnight! And there's the vision and the senses. And don't even think I don't notice you don't need your inhaler anymore."

"Ok!" Scott interjected. "I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" I exclaimed. "The full moon's tonight! Don't you get it?"

"What are you trying to do? I just made first line, I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?"

I wasn't looking at him anymore and I searched through the papers on my desk, trying to find some kind of proof that might get him to believe me. Scott was silent for a few moments before he finally spoke again.

"Are you doing this because you didn't make the team? Because everything in my life is going right and you can't stand it?"

That hurt like a punch in the stomach. I turned to see him again and I could see in his eyes that he regretted what he said the moment he had said it. But it was too late to take it back.

"Scott," I whispered, "how could you even say that? This is so not about me. This is all about you. I'm just trying to help. You're cursed, Scott." He stared at me, maybe afraid to say anything else. I kept going.

"And it's not just that the moon will cause you to physically change. It just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."

"Bloodlust," Scott snorted.

"Your urge to kill."

"I'm already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles."

Images of Scott changing, chasing after me, flashed before my eyes. I turned away from him to get a book from atop my printer.

"Look," I recited, "'the change can be caused by anger or anything that raises the pulse.'" I looked back at Scott with a smirk.

"I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You have to cancel this date." I walked over to Scott's backpack and searched the pockets for his phone. Scott protested, but I eventually found it and began searching through his contacts for Allison.

"Give it to me!"

Scott grabbed me by my shirt and pushed me into the wall of my bedroom. I dropped the phone somewhere on the floor in shock. Scott didn't care. As my head hit the wall painfully, Scott cocked one of his arms back, ready to strike me in the face. It all seemed too familiar as I pictured Scott, his face inhuman, bare his claws and fangs at me, ready to kill.

"Scott," I gasped. "Scott, don't." This was just like my dream. Was this still my friend? Could he be reasoned with?

Scott's face was twisted into a snarl of rage. Before he actually hit me, Scott released my shirt and turned away from me. He cried out and knocked my computer chair across my bedroom. He was breathing heavily, but I was grateful he decided to direct his outburst of wolfy anger at my chair and not my face. Still I shrunk away from him when he turned back to look at me. He seemed so shocked at what he had just done. He slowly bent down to pick up his phone.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I gotta go...get ready for that party."

He gathered his things carefully, looking back at me every so often with worried eyes. He apologized one more time before finally leaving. I could still barely move, even when I heard him slam the front door. I took several forced breaths before finally going to fix my computer chair. My best friend almost hit me. He did treat me like one of the guys, but he still did recognized the fact that I was a girl. And he almost hit me. And who knows how far it would have gone if he actually had. Scott refused to believe it, but I think he knew. I didn't need anymore convincing.

After righting the chair I noticed something on the back of it. It was torn. Not just torn, but slashed at. Three distinct slash marks. Three distinct _claw_ marks. No, I didn't need anymore convincing. It was a full moon tonight and everyone at that party could be in danger. Because, _holy shit_, my best friend was a werewolf.


	5. Chapter 5

Scott wouldn't answer any of my phone calls or texts. I tried to keep them as non-werewolf related as I possibly could, but I was guessing he knew the actual reason why I was trying to reach him. I could only see one other option. I would have to go to the party and keep an eye on him. Real smart plan, Stiles. Go to a party where everyone is in danger of being attacked by a werewolf and try to restrain your friend who is considerably larger than you and is also _a goddamn werewolf_. Not to mention it was at Lydia's house, so that would suck. I had never been there before and never planned on it. But I guess now I had to go to that witch's lair.

When my dad came home I told him about the party. He didn't seem too reluctant to let me go. In fact, he seemed somewhat ecstatic to see me actually wanting to do something social. I conveniently left out the part about the murderous werewolf and that I would rather gouge out my own eyes than go to Lydia Martin's party.

"Just don't come home too late," my father said. "Also, I would be an idiot to think there isn't going to be alcohol at this party. Don't drive drunk."

"Dad," I said offended. "I cannot believe you would accuse me of doing such a heinous thing such as underage drinking." My dad rolled his eyes and told me to have fun. Oh, yeah. Partying with werewolves on the full moon. It was gonna be a blast.

I ran up stairs and started to get a sinking feeling when I noticed the sun was already starting to go down. I had to think of something to wear besides what I already had on. This was a Lydia Martin party of course. Dressing like a normal human being would definately get me noticed. I looked through my closet and came up blank. I was absolutely clueless when it came to clothing. I liked my t-shirts and jeans. I would wear them every single day if I had the option. But being a "girl" I did own a few skirts and dresses. I hardly wore them though. I hated wearing skirts and dresses with a passion. I just never felt comfortable in them. Which was part of the reason why I hated Lydia so much. She always had such nice clothes on and always looked so good in them. It wasn't fair.

The sun was down and the moon was rising when I said, "Fuck it," and put on a skirt and blouse. It didn't matter if I was uncomfortable. I just wanted to help my friend. Although I did keep my converse on. I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. It was only when I had driven for ten minutes or so that I realized I had no fucking clue where Lydia Martin lived. Someone may have told me in the past, but I couldn't be asked to remember it. I pulled off to the side of the road and got out my phone. Who did I know, or at least cared about, that would be at this party? I was tempted to dial Scott, but he was ignoring me. I passed Jackson's name and stopped for only a moment before realizing, yeah, bad idea. I landed on Morgan's name and pressed dial. She answered after only a few rings.

"Hello?" she shouted over pumping music. Good. She was at the party.

"Hey," I answered, "it's Stiles. I was wondering if you could give me directions to Lydia's house. I want to go to the party, but I don't know how to get there."

"Why the hell do you want to come to Lydia's party?" Morgan questioned. "I thought you hated her."

"Scott convinced me to go," I somewhat lied, "but he left without giving me directions. He's picking up Allison."

Morgan told me the directions while I jotted them down on a napkin. I told her thanks and hung up. I would have to burn this napkin after I got there because I never wanted a reason to go to Lydia's house ever again. I eventually arrived and the party was in full swing. People flooded the house and some even overflowed into the lawn. I scanned the driveway and spotted the car that belonged to Scott's mom. So he was already here. No one seemed to be panicking or calling the cops, so that was good. I got out of my car and headed for the house. It was a big place. That was to be expected since Lydia's family was doing pretty well for themselves. Not as good as Jackson's family, but still.

I maneuvered my way through the sea of people and saw a lot of people were dancing out by the pool. I couldn't see Scott anywhere inside, so my best bet was to check out there. I finally saw Scott with Allison. He looked happy. He and Allison swayed together with the music, smiles on both of their faces. I don't think I had ever seen Scott this happy. The moon was at its fullest and its light shined down on the two of them. Scott didn't change. He didn't go crazy. He was just happy.

I stopped myself from going out there and ruining his night even more. I did genuinely believe Scott was a werewolf, but I wanted him to have this moment. I would stay at the party and look out for him, but something told me everything was going to be alright. I grabbed a cup of punch off of a table and took a sip. Just one drink, dad. Morgan found me and grabbed my arm.

"Hey," she said, "glad you could make it. Did you find Scott?"

I looked over at him. "Yeah. But I don't want to ruin his date."

We talked and laughed. We drank and danced. I couldn't believe that I was actually being a teenager right now. And I was enjoying it. Although I didn't know if I would ever be able to stand Lydia Martin, I had to admit she threw some hell of a party. Just as I broke my own promise and got a second drink, I looked back to find Scott. He wasn't with Allison anymore. He was actually pushing his way through the crowd of people inside. He looked like he was in pain.

"Scott?" I called. "Scott, you good?"

He pushed his way past me and Morgan. Was this it? Was he about to go off? Oh, Jesus. Allison wasn't too far behind Scott when she came and asked us if we had seen him. We directed her to the front lawn and she followed him worried. I was a little reluctant to go after them, but I knew I had to. I told Morgan I had to go, gave her my drink, and made my way toward the front door.

When I got outside I didn't see Scott or Allison. His mom's car was no longer there. Was Allison with him? My question was answered very quickly when I saw her across the lawn getting into the passenger side of a black Camaro. I looked at the driver's side and was shocked to see who it was. It was none other than Derek Hale. He looked back at the house and saw me. We locked eyes for only a moment before he got into the car and drove away with Allison. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help but get slightly aroused. Hot damn, no wonder Allison had gone with him. He could flat out say he was going to murder me and I would still get into the car.

My best friend was somewhere turning into a werewolf and I was fantasising about Derek Hale. I was a horrible person. I ran across the lawn to my jeep and peeled out of the driveway. I searched the dark roads for Scott's car, but didn't see it anywhere. I decided to drive straight to his house. I was only somewhat relieved to see the car in the driveway. The front door was unlocked and I ran up stairs to his bedroom.

"Scott!" I shouted. I tried opening the door but something on the otherside prevented me from opening it all the way.

"Scott, let me in! I can help!"

"No," Scott breathed heavily. It sounded like he had something in his mouth. "Listen, you gotta find Allison."

Typical. The boy is turning into a freaking werewolf and he's worried about Allison. "Allison's fine. I saw her get a ride from the party. She's totally fine."

"No, I think I know who it is!" Scott shouted from behind the door.

I tried pushing on the door again with no luck. "Dude! Just let me in! We can try-"

"It's Derek!" Scott revealed. "Derek Hale is the werewolf. He's the one who bit me. He's the one who killed the girl in the woods."

Derek Hale was the werewolf? Oh my God, it was so obvious! Creeping around the woods the day after Scott had gotten bitten, finding Scott's inhaler, picking up Scott's girlfriend from the party. Oh shit, Derek Hale picked up Scott's girlfriend from the party.

"Scott, Derek is the one who drove Allison from the party."

The door slammed closed on me entirely. I banged on it with my fists, but he had locked it. I called after Scott, begging him to listen, but I knew his mind must be elsewhere. The person who had probably just ruined his life just kidnapped his girlfriend. Frankly, I'd be pissed too. I tried the door handle one more time before giving up. I turned away from Scott's bedroom door, only to look back at it slowly after hearing a terrifying howl coming from its direction. Oh yeah, he was _pissed_.

Well, I failed at keeping my friend contained on the full moon, so I focused on the next thing I could do to help; find Allison. I ran back to my car, constantly on the lookout for rogue werewolves. I got in and struggled to remember Allison's home address. Scott had mentioned it the other day. On the drive to her supposed street, I tried to come up with some sort of way to explain what the fuck was going on to her parents. Surely, they wouldn't believe me about the whole werewolf thing, but maybe if I left that part out they would just take it as a normal kidnapping. Dear Lord, when did kidnappings seem normal to me?

I almost drove past Allison's house, but I recognized her car in the drive. So I had successfully remembered Allison's address. Hurray for me. Now came the hard part. I hopped out of my car and raced up Allison's driveway, becoming fully aware of what I was about to say. Was this my life now? I knocked on the door furiously and rang the doorbell several times. My thoughts turned to Scott, wondering what he was doing right now. Probably tracking down Derek so he could rip him a new one. Hopefully Allison wasn't in Scott's line of fire or she could get hurt.

What if Scott killed someone tonight? Before that thought had me spiraling into a full on panic attack, the door swung open. A very scary looking lady stood before me with short, fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. This must be Allison's mother.

"Hi! Mrs. Argent," I blundered. "Um, you have no idea who I am. I'm a friend of your daughter's. This is gonna sound kinda crazy-" Mrs. Argent stared at me with growing confusion. "-really crazy actually. You know what, crazy doesn't even describe-"

"Allison!" Mrs. Argent called. Allison appeared near the banister of the staircase. "It's for you."

There she stood, completely unharmed. Perfectly fine. Derek had brought her home in one piece. Why? Was he trying to protect Allison from Scott? But he was the one who turned him into a werewolf in the first place! What the hell was going on?

"Oh, hi," Allison said pleasantly. "It was Stiles, right?" I nodded, unable to form any words at the moment.

Allison walked down the stairs. "So, what's up?"

"Uh," I uttered, finally finding my voice. "I just wanted to make sure you got home from the party safely. I know Scott, uh, had to take off early."

"Yeah," Allison mumbled, looking upset. "He just left me there. But it was ok. Someone offered me a ride. Said they were one of Scott's friends."

"Oh really?" I pondered. Derek told Allison he was one of Scott's "friends." Yep. Friends till the end. "Ok, well uh, just checking in on you. And you're obviously fine!" Awkward laughter. God, I was bad at this.

"I guess I'll see you at school," Allison said trying to end the conversation.

"Yeah," I complied. "See ya."

Allison's mother looked at us both strangely before finally closing the door and ending probably one of the most awkward moments of my life. That was saying something, considering all the awkwards moments I'd had in the past. And there were some doozies. But I didn't have time to think about that now. I had to find Scott, possibly wolfed out Scott, and tell him Allison was okay. My ideas were so shit. I called my father on the road, telling him I was spending the night at Scott's. He was fine with it and said he probably wouldn't see me until tomorrow afternoon. I told him to be careful tonight and hung up the phone.

The rest of the evening was spent driving around the wooded area of Beacon Hills, looking for Scott. I was completely exhausted and lost all of my jitters about finding him by 3 in the morning. I didn't care if he was fully wolfed out. I would drag his furry ass into my car myself. I just needed to get some sleep. Why did adderall have to wear off so quickly? I didn't intend to pull an all nighter, but the sun was beginning to rise by the time I had found him. He was walking along the side of the road, shirtless, looking pretty sorry for himself. Poor little werewolf. I pulled up to him and opened the passenger door.

"You suck at hitchhiking, dude," I teased. "You're never gonna get a ride like that. Show of some calf. You can work it!"

Scott looked up at me with full on puppy eyes. It took everything I had not to jump out of the car and hug him until everything got better. He smiled softly and got in the car. Closing the door behind him, we drove back toward town. Scott didn't say anything. I explained the whole situation about Allison to him and he seemed to visibly relax. He still didn't say a word.

"I told my dad I was spending the night at your house," I said, "so I guess we're going there." Scott nodded. He looked so exposed.

"There's a blanket in the glovebox," I informed Scott. He retrieved and draped it over his shoulders. More silence. He needed time to think. I got that. But come on, Scott. Say something, damn it!

"You know what worries me the most?" Scott asked, granting my wish.

"If you say Allison, I will punch you in the head."

"She probably hates me now," Scott moaned.

I sighed. "I doubt that. But you might wanna come up with a pretty amazing apology." Scott contemplated this. "Or you could just tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a freaking werewolf."

Scott looked at me now like I was crazy.

"Ok," I admitted. "Bad idea."

Scott looked away from me again, disjunctively.

"Hey," I soothed, "we'll get through this. If I have to I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a Boa once. I could do it." The Boa had turned out to be an awful idea. After it escaped my house twice and almost ate my neighbor's dog, my dad decided it had to go. He told me he had given it away, but I was pretty sure he took it out to the woods and shot it.

The mention of that stupid old snake managed to get a small laugh out of Scott. It was something at least. I smiled at him. This was our lives now. Werewolves. It was amazing how this had now become the new normal of our lives. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence. We managed to make it back to Scott's house before his mom did. She didn't question anything and we were both grateful for that.

The rest of the weekend was just like old times. Scott and I ate junk food and had a horrible movie marathon. I wanted to watch I Was a Teenage Werewolf, but Scott wasn't having any of that. After laughing at all of the cheesy effects of the 60s, I made Scott tell me everything about the full moon. He explained how Derek had found him in the woods and told him the bite was a "gift." That guy just got creepier and creepier. Then he told me about the hunters, people who actually hunt werewolves for a living. Great. As if Scott didn't have enough to deal with. Scott told me he had gotten shot in the arm with an arrow, but Derek had saved him. It was a little hard to take in and nothing really made much sense. But what was I expecting when I asked my friend to explain his first night as a werewolf?

"So Derek said you were brothers now?" I asked. Scott nodded. "What the hell does that even mean? Like blood brothers? Did you cut your palms and shake hands, cuz that can give you aids."

"Nothing like that," Scott clarified, "but I kinda get what he meant. I could feel some sort of connection between us. It's a little hard to explain."

"I do not want my friend to have any sort of connection to that creepy motherfucker." Can't believe I used to think he was hot.

"I don't think I have a choice," Scott said downcast. "I can't figure this out on my own and he has been a werewolf longer. I might need him."

"You don't need shit! I'm here to help you and now that you actually believe me, it'll be easier to lock you up on full moons."

"It's not just full moons," Scott explained. "You said yourself the change can be caused by anything that gets me angry. This is something I'm going to have to learn to control, even if it means working with Derek."

"I don't trust him," I mumbled.

"Neither do I. But do I really have a choice?"

That kept me silent. Did he? I didn't know anything about this Derek character, other than his backstory and that he was hot. No, Stiles. We don't think he's hot anymore. He wasn't trustworthy, that was for sure. I had no idea what his intentions were or why he had even turned Scott in the first place. Maybe with time these questions would be answered. For now, I fell asleep on Scott's bed with these questions bleeding into my dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

It was hard to believe that when Monday came I still had to go to school. You can't just be presented with the fact that your best friend is a werewolf and then be expected to continue your high school education after only one weekend. However, that is exactly what happened. I woke up bright and early Monday morning and drove to school.

I imagined Scott had it even more rough than me. He was the one who was a werewolf after all. I didn't see him in the morning and assumed that he was off somewhere on his knees, begging Allison to take him back. For his sake, I hoped she did. He needed at least one good thing in his life right now. I saw him in class, but he didn't speak to me. He didn't even look at Allison. Scott kept his head forward the whole time with a sort of dazed expression on his face. That didn't bode well. Scott acted like this all day until I was finally able to catch him outside of the boy's locker room before lacrosse started.

I asked him what Allison had said and he told me she had forgiven him. Well, alright! Then why was he acting so strangely? He then revealed to me the reason for his unusual silence. Allison's father was one of the hunters who had attacked him on the full moon. He had shot him with a crossbow. I was completely shocked by this, but I really shouldn't have been. Figured even the girl of his dreams would come with some sort of catch. I asked again just to be safe.

"Allison's father?"

"Yes, her father!" Scott shouted at me.

Most of the team was now on the field and we were left by the locker rooms alone. Scott began to whimper and I knew he was spiraling out of control fast. I gave him a few forceful pats on the cheek to try and bring him back to reality. I told him not to worry. I slammed his lacrosse stick into his chest and told him the only thing he needed to worry about right now was practice. He agreed weakly, but he still looked like he was seasick. I pushed him out to the field and he ran to join the other players. Coach was yelling at the team and I quickly gave him the finger while his back was to me. I took my seat and watched the practice with anxious eyes.

I had told Scott not to worry, but there was just so much to worry about. Did Allison know about her father's extracurricular activities? Was she a hunter as well? Did her father know Scott was a werewolf? Did she? I tried to keep all of these questions pressed down for the moment. Scott needed to take a breath right now and relax in the best way he knew how; tackling other sweaty boys to the ground. They were practicing shots at the goal with Jackson defending. He had successfully blocked everyone so far and then it was Scott's turn. Making Jackson eat mud would surely take his mind off of the whole Allison thing. Scott ran toward the goal and Jackson slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. Ouch.

"McCall!" Coach smirked. "My grandmother can move faster than that!"

He leaned down and was talking quietly in Scott's ear. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but Scott was breathing heavily. Although I was a little worried, I wouldn't have been too upset if he wolfed out and took that stupid Coach's face off. However, he didn't. Coach left his side and announced Scott was going to try again. Only this time, Scott looked pissed. He made his way back to the front of the line and Jackson returned to his position. The whistle blew and Scott burst forward with lightning speed and crashed into Jackson. I heard a snap as Jackson flew up into the air and landed on the field like a ragdoll. Scott didn't make it to the goal before he collapsed to his knees, gripping his head in pain. Coach and the other boys rushed over to help Jackson, but I darted off the bleachers and ran to my friend's side.

"I can't control it, Stiles," Scott huffed. "It's happening."

"Right here?" I squeaked. "Now?"

Scott didn't answer before I pulled him up, putting his arm over my shoulders, and hauled ass back to the locker room. I didn't even care I wasn't a boy, this allowed me special privilege to enter. Before we had left the field, I did see someone out of the corner of my eye. Derek Hale. He was spying on Scott at school now? Jesus, dude! Get a life! I burst through the locker room door and allowed Scott to collapse onto the floor. I begged him to give me any indication on what I could do to help. I titled his head toward me so I could see his face and-

"Get away from me!" Scott roared. His eyes were glowing golden yellow and his mouth housed vicious fangs.

I complied with his wishes and quickly scurried away from my best friend. My heart was pounding in my throat at the sight of him. Scott began to advance on me, knocking benches out of the way in order to get me. I got up and ran, maneuvering my way around the several rows of lockers. Oh my God, I was going to die! My best friend was about to kill me and I had nowhere to go. My thoughts again turned to my nightmare of him, but I didn't allow that fear to slow me down. I heard a crash from behind me and turned to see Scott had jumped up on top of one of the lockers. He then jumped down right in front of me and I reeled back into the wall. Suddenly there was hope as I felt a solid object hit my shoulder blades. It was a fire extinguisher. I grabbed it off of the wall and didn't hesitate to spray Scott. It was desperate, but I had no other options.

Fortunately for me, it worked. Scott flailed and snarled angrily as the cloud of chemicals engulfed him. I stopped spraying and turned into the shower room, my back pressed tightly against the wall. I clutched the fire extinguisher to my chest like it was a small child and gasped for air. I was expecting any minute for Scott to turn the corner and try to eat me again or whatever, but he never did. After a few minutes of silence, I heard his voice.

"Stiles?" he croaked.

I carefully turned the corner and saw him propped up against one of the benches. He had taken off his helmet and was sweating. He panted and looked at me confused. After seeing him in this state I allowed the fire extinguisher to drop to the ground with a loud thud. I gingerly approached Scott, but I was ready if he lost it again.

"What happened?" Scott asked quietly. Did he not remember? Well that's fucking convenient. For him I mean. This was going to be the subject matter of my nightmares for weeks.

"You tried to kill me," I reminded him. "It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."

"But that's lacrosse," Scott argued. "It's a pretty violent game if you haven't noticed."

"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game."

"But I'm first line," Scott complained.

"Not anymore."

Scott was silent and the only sound in the locker room was our heavy breathing. I got up and left Scott to think about this. I felt bad, but there was no other way. I only wanted Scott to succeed in life and he couldn't do that if he was in jail. Or killed by hunters. Or kidnapped by the government. Because a werewolf would definitely be something the government would try to use as a weapon. They probably have so many weapons we don't know about. Focus, Stiles. We're thinking about Scott.

"Let me know what happened to Jackson," Scott called sounding concerned.

"I'll be on Skype later," I informed Scott. "I'll let you know what I find out." And with that I left the locker room.

I needed to get out of there before any of the guys saw me. There had been rumors in the past that me and Scott were fucking, but we had squashed all of those rumors pretty fast. However, me and Scott going into the locker room and then me slinking out suspiciously would definitely start some rumors again. Not to mention Coach would have a field day. I managed to get out without anyone seeing me and moved on to the next topic of interest; Derek. What the hell was he doing? If he had known Scott was going to turn, why didn't he stop him? Better yet, why didn't he try to help me?

I went back out to the field and saw they had successfully moved Jackson to the emergency room. Coach announced the practice was over for the day and the rest of the team dispersed. I asked him the full extent of Jackson's injuries and he told me it looked like a separated shoulder. He also told me to give Scott a good ass kicking on his behalf. No sign of Derek Hale anywhere. Of course not. I groaned and returned to my jeep. It was amazing how fast the shock of my best friend nearly killing me had worn off. I hoped this was something that I didn't have to get used to. When I got home I was surprised to see my dad was back from work already.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted him. "What are you doing home so early?"

"We didn't have any luck finding the other half of the body," the Sheriff sighed. "We might be instating a county wide curfew if we don't find it soon." He had a brown paper sack next to him on the counter. He was already starting to tuck into a very greasy looking hamburger.

"I hope that's a veggie burger," I warned. He stopped chewing and looked at me guiltily.

"Can't I just cheat for one night?" he whined. "I got you some, too."

I took a look in the bag and found another burger. "Fine. Just for tonight, since you had such a rough day. But I'm taking your fries." I snatched the paper bag off the counter and ran up to my room before he could complain.

I ate his fries greedily and almost laughed maniacally. He might have considered me a food Nazi, but it was for his own good. My father didn't have the best cholesterol and after my mother died I decided it was time for him to seriously change his eating habits. I wasn't about to lose another parent. He understood that, but it still didn't stop him from cheating whenever he got the chance.

I finished my food and hopped online. Scott wasn't on Skype yet, so I left it open and continued to read a book about lycanthropes from the library. I wanted to know everything I could about werewolves in order to help Scott. There was a lot of stuff to sift through and I had to determine truth from myth. After an hour or so a chime sounded, indicating someone was calling me on Skype. I answered it and Scott appeared on my screen.

"What did you find out?" Scott asked straight away.

"Well, it's bad," I admitted. "Jackson's got a separated shoulder."

"Because of me?"

"Because he's a tool," I reminded him.

"Is he gonna play?" Scott asked.

"They don't know yet. Now they're just counting on you for Saturday. Of course, I forbid it."

Just as Scott was looking sorry for himself, I noticed something in the corner of the screen. I leaned in closer to inspect it. Yeah. Something in the darkness of Scott's bedroom. It almost looked like a person. A very tall, very scary person. Oh, no way.

"Scott," I said hurriedly, "there's someone in the room with you."

Scott's face didn't move and neither did the figure. It was then that the screen froze and informed me of technical issues. Piece of crap. My best friend was probably about to be murdered by Derek Hale! I typed frantically into the chat. The screen flickered and continued motion just long enough for me to see Derek Hale come out of the shadows and grab Scott out of his seat. Then a message popped up alerting me to the fact that my internet connection was down.

"Scott!" I yelled at the blank screen. "Dammit, Scott!"

I swore then and there that if a single hair was out of place on Scott's stupid shaggy head, I would murder Derek Hale without a second thought. I didn't care what he thought he was. No one messed with best friend except for me. I grabbed my phone from my bag and called Scott with no answer. I tried several more times and sent him several text messages. He didn't reply. I threw the phone down on my bed in frustration. Oh, yeah. I was going to kill Derek Hale. If he wasn't answering that meant...I didn't know what it meant, but it was bad. I would go over to his house and do something. Anything. Before I could freak out any further, my cellphone rang. It was Scott. I rushed over to it and nearly dropped it when trying to answer.

"Scott!" I exclaimed. "Are you alright? Talk to me!"

"Stiles," Scott said softly. "I don't think I'm playing Saturday."

"Tell me what happened" I demanded. "Is he still there? I swear to God if he hurt you-"

"I'm alright. Just kinda shaken up. He threatened me and told me that if I tried to play in the game he would...I don't know."

"Motherfucker." I gritted my teeth. "Who the hell does he think he is? He is not allowed to do anything to you. I have a few choice words I'd like to say-"

"Stiles, wait," Scott interrupted. "Please, stay away from him. You might think you can take him, but you can't. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Scott, please. I can take care of myself. I'm a big girl."

"Stiles."

I was silent before answering. "Fine. But if he ever approaches me, all bets are off."

"If he ever approaches you," Scott added, "I will happily help you kick his ass."

"As much as I hate to admit," I said, "he was right about one thing."

"What?"

"You can't play Saturday."

"I know," Scott muttered. "I just have no idea what Coach is going to say."

"Another person on my Shit List," I sneered.

Scott snorted over the receiver. "I will not stand in the way if you want to say a few choice words to him."

"I'll let you deal with Coach yourself," I laughed. "I know my dad won't be happy if I get suspended again."

I reluctantly let Scott go and wished him luck on his little meeting with Coach. After the phone went dead, I stood there for a few moments, unsure of what to do next. My friend was being threatened and I had no way of defending him. Despite being incredibly awkward, I had always been able to hold my own. If anyone ever tried to go after Scott, I could make them back down in record time. He would do the same for me, except he used his fists a lot more. Now there was Derek Hale, big scary werewolf, who most assuredly wouldn't take my bullshit. Unless I proved myself. Derek probably thought I was a fragile little human girl who was in way over her head, but he was wrong. I could take care of myself and Scott no matter what he thought. Even though Scott warned me about it, I would come face to face with Derek Hale and give him what's coming to him. Oh yes, we were going to exchange some words very soon.


	7. Chapter 7

As our shovels kept plunging into the soft earth, it really made me question how I had gotten to this point in my life; Scott and I in Derek Hale's backyard digging for the other half of a corpse. I retraced the steps in my mind. After Scott had informed me that my dad was for sure instating the curfew, I knew we had to find a way to bring Derek Hale to justice. He was a creepy son of a bitch who murdered an innocent girl. Just because you're a werewolf doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want! Then Scott went ballistic because Derek had returned Allison's jacket? This part I didn't really get. I mean sure it was creepy that he snuck into the school and put her jacket in her locker without anyone seeing him, but he didn't threaten her or anything. Personally I would find it a bit endearing.

The part that really did get my attention was what Scott told me after he went to confront Derek. He smelled blood on his property and was pretty sure the other half of the body was there. He was also very intent on playing the game on Saturday out of pure spite, which I objected to. Scott assured me it would be fine, as long as I helped him control himself before the game. Oh yeah, seemed foolproof. After enduring a slow and painful torture at the hospital, watching Lydia and Jackson make-out, Scott returned from the morgue and confirmed that the scent from the body was the same as the scent at Derek's house. And now we found ourselves here, digging up a dead body, praying to God that Derek didn't come home any minute and kill us both. As the hours ticked by, Scott became increasingly worried.

"This is taking way too long," Scott complained through ragged breaths.

"Just keep going," I assured him as I heaved another shovel full of dirt out of the small crater in the ground.

"What if he comes back?" Scott panicked.

"We get the hell out of here." Obviously.

"What if he catches us?" Scott had stopped digging now.

"I have a plan for that," I said with labored breathing. Another shovel full. We must be close.

"Which is?" Scott cued for me to elaborate.

"You run one way, I run the other. Whoever he catches first, too bad." I smirked at Scott and wiped some sweat from my forehead. It seemed like the most logical thing to do. I constantly told Scott that if we were trapped in the apocalypse and we were getting chased by zombies, I would trip him. Same applies to killer werewolves. Scott didn't seem to buy it.

"I hate that plan," he muttered angrily. I thrust my shovel into the ground one more time and felt it connect with something soft.

"Whoa, stop!" I halted Scott with my hands. We quickly tossed out shovels aside and bent down to wipe away the rest of the dirt with our hands. A canvass cloth tied up in rope was beginning to reveal itself and I frantically struggled to undo the knots.

"Hurry!" Scott goaded me.

"I'm trying," I mumbled as I picked apart a few more layers. "Did he have to tie the thing in 900 knots?"

"I'll do it," Scott quickly asserted himself, working on his own section of the rope. Finally we managed to get them undone and were able to open up the cloth to reveal-

We both screamed and threw ourselves out of the shallow grave. Neither of us had expected that. The top half a decaying black wolf was lying in the ground before us. What the hell? Scott said he had smelled blood. Human blood. Not this. No, like seriously, what the actual fuck?

"What the hell is that?" I said out loud for Scott's benefit.

"It's a wolf," Scott answered. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

"Well I can see that," I spit back at him, a little more forcefully than I had intended. "I thought you said you smelled blood. As in _human_ blood."

"I told you something was different," Scott reminded me. He did tell me, as soon as we had arrived.

"This doesn't make sense," I thought out loud. It really didn't. Derek buried her here, I was sure of it. He buried a human girl here. Now it's a wolf. Huh?

"We gotta get out of here." Scott's words brought me back to reality.

I nodded. "Help me cover this up."

I grabbed my shovel in order to undo all of our hard work of the evening and then noticed something only a few feet away from the grave. A purple flower of some sort. I stared at it for some time, Scott watching me curiously. Something about it seemed familiar to me. Then it clicked.

"What's wrong?" Scott questioned.

"Do you see that flower?" I pointed to it.

"What about it?"

"I think it's wolfsbane," I replied. I had seen a picture of a flower like it in one of the books I had gotten from the library.

"What's that?" Scott asked ignorantly. Seriously, worst werewolf ever. Can't even recognize his own Kryptonite.

"Haven't you ever seen the Wolf Man?" I asked hoping to jog his memory. He just shook his head. Wait, what? He had never seen the Wolf Man? I forgot about the wolfsbane temporarily and focused all my attention onto this utter fallacy in Scott's life.

"Lon Chaney Junior? Claud Rains? The original classic werewolf movie." Scott sighed, frustrated. Ha, he was frustrated! How had he never seen the Wolf Man?

"No, what?" Scott finally asked exasperated.

"You're so unprepared for this," I said as I went to inspect the wolfsbane. I pulled it up out of the ground only to see its roots melded into a woven rope of some sort. The rope seemed to still be buried in the ground, so I continued to pull it up. The wolfsbane rope led me in a circle around the grave, but as a kept pulling it up I got farther away from the body. Maybe not a circle, more like a spiral. As I pulled up the last of the rope, my arms filled completely with it, I heard Scott let out a gasp.

"Stiles," he said quietly. He was standing over the grave with his mouth wide open. I went over to see what had him so shocked. I looked in the ground to see the carcass was no longer wolf, but the remains of a human girl from the waist up. This caused me to stand back a little in shock myself. First it was a wolf, now it's a girl. I looked at Scott and knew we had reached the same conclusion. This was a werewolf. Do werewolves turn into actual wolves when they die? Would that happen to Scott? All I knew for sure was that I had no idea what was going on. I grabbed Scott and retreated back to the jeep. Before I climbed inside I quickly stuffed the wolfsbane into my backpack. I would have to take a look at it later.

Scott and I sat in the jeep for a few moments unable of what to do or say next. I totally forgot that Derek could come back at any moment and rip us to shreds. I just had no idea how to process what I had just seen. After the silence lasted for a few more minutes, I pulled out my phone.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked quietly.

"Calling my dad," I replied as I dialed. I held the phone up to my ear waiting for the station to pick up.

"This creep is going behind bars," I said to Scott, "even if he is a werewolf."

The station finally picked up. The secretary gave me the standard greeting, but immediately transferred me over to my dad when I said who I was. My father sounded tired but alarmed.

"What's wrong Stiles?" he asked anxiously.

"I have some good news," I attempted to say pleasantly. Scott gave me a sour look. "Ok, not good news, but news in general. We found the other half of the body."  
"What?!" my dad choked out. "Where the hell are you? Are you alright? What are you doing out so late anyway? I told you-"

"Dad calm down," I reassured him. "I'm ok and so is Scott. We're at the Hale house. We were looking for his inhaler and came across something strange. We decided to investigate and found it. We both freaked out pretty bad." It was surprising me how easy it was becoming to flat out lie to people. Not that I wasn't talented before.

"Scott's with you?" my father asked with a worn tone. "Of course he is. Wait, you guys are still there?"

"Yeah."

"Well get the hell out of there right now," the Sheriff ordered. "I don't need you two hanging around where a murderer might be." Oh shit, I almost forgot about him.

"Just get down here quick," I insisted. "We have to give statements anyway, right?"

My father sighed. "Yes you do. I'll be down there soon. Don't do anything stupid."

"Roger!" I reported. I could practically hear my father rolling his eyes. I hung up and exited my car. Definitely needed some fresh air. Scott exited the vehicle as well.

"He's gonna be pissed," Scott said distantly.

"My dad'll be fine," I assured him. "He's kinda used to my bullshit now."

"Not him," Scott clarified. "Derek. He could try to kill us all."

"He's going to jail," I reminded him. "Not even Derek can escape Justice. Seriously, I feel like Captain America, but with boobs." I made a very heroic pose and managed to make Scott give out a small chuckle. This lightened the mood and it wasn't long until my dad showed up. We pointed out to him where the body was, very thankful that it was still a human body, and he had another deputy section it off with police tape. My father was very skeptical that we just happened to "stumble" across the dead body with shovels and spent the night digging it up. I assured him I just happened to have shovels in the back of my car. Clearly fate was on my side.

"Why don't you get a ride with officer Mendez?" my dad suggested. "She'll take you home so you two can get cleaned up. Just leave the jeep here. You can come back and get it later."

Scott and I agreed and got the lift back to my house. Fortunately Scott has a spare of everything at my house. We both showered and decided to catch some z's. I won't lie and say we slept like babies. We both woke up panting a few times in the middle of the night. In the morning neither of us felt well rested, but we knew we had to go back to the scene of the crime. We got dressed and Officer Mendez gave us another ride. When we got back it was a full on crime scene; police tape and cop cars everywhere and a forensics team working on the body. Scott went to go wait over by my jeep and I waited by the police cruiser.

I looked over at the house and Derek was being led out, his hands in cuffs behind his back. For some reason and unbelievable feeling of rage and injustice welled up inside of me. Those cops had no idea the full extent of what this man had done. His eyes locked with mine once again and he smirked. His gaze slid over to Scott with the same expression. Normally the smirk would have left me breathless, but I don't really find murderers attractive. Ok, I could think of a few fictional characters, but they don't count.

After Derek entered the back of the cruiser and the door was shut behind him, I knew this was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Scott had told me not to confront him or I might get hurt. But how much damage could he do cuffed in the back of a cop car surrounded by police officers? Little to none. At least that was what I was telling myself. That was how I justified my following actions. I walked myself over to the cop car, ignoring to devastating looks from Scott, and entered the passenger side. I closed the door behind me and now here I was. I was now in a cop car with Derek Freaking Hale and the only thing that was separating us was a thin grate. He looked up at me, his seafoam green eyes boring into me, the small smirk still at his lips. I gave him my most icy glare and prepared for probably the most intimidating conversation I've ever had.

I returned his smirk with my own. "Hello Derek."


	8. Chapter 8

"Just so you know," I said quietly, pressing my face closer to the grate, "I'm not afraid of you."

Derek looked up at me with an expression so cold and fearsome I knew that if he wanted me dead right now, I would be dead. I leaned away from him ever so slightly and decided to reevaluate my previous sentence.

"Ok," I admitted, "maybe I am. Doesn't matter. You're threatening my friend and you bet your ass I'm going to defend him."

Derek rolled his eyes, the smirk threatening to make a reappearance. Jesus, this guy was smug. Don't know why. He was just arrested for murder and is sitting in the back of a cop car waiting to be processed. I wanted to tear him a new one so badly, but I resisted the urge in order to satisfy my own curiosity.

"Listen," I continued, Derek still staring daggers at me. "I just want to know something. The girl you killed, she was a werewolf, but she was a different kind, wasn't she? She could turn herself into an actual wolf and I know Scott can't do that." At the mention of the girl, Derek's face darkened even more, if that was possible. This girl was striking a real chord with him.

"Is that why you killed her?" I pondered out loud.

"Why are you so worried about me when it's your friend who's the problem?" Derek finally spoke at last. His words took me aback slightly.

"When he shifts on the field what do you think they're going to do?" Derek asked bitterly. "Just keep cheering him on?"

We both knew the answer to that question. Scott was in real danger tonight of being exposed, killed, or worse. I knew the concern was clear on my face as I sat back in the front seat taking in the reality of his words.

"I can't stop him from playing," Derek continued, "but you can."

"You don't think I've tried?" I spat back at him. "I told him he couldn't play. Hell, he might have even listened to me, but then some creepy-ass werewolf snuck into his room and threatened him. Now he's made it his personal mission to play tonight just to spite said creepy-ass werewolf. So yeah, thanks for that."

I looked Derek up and down with my most accusing expression, but he didn't get phased by it; he just looked more frustrated. Now that I did look him up and down, however, I felt the attraction to this man return. I slid my eyes over his tight black t-shirt, chin stubble, and messy dark hair; let's not even get started on the fact that he's in _handcuffs_. Goddamnit, Stiles! Why do psychotic supernatural beings have to be so appealing to teenage girls? I suppressed this sudden influx of hormones, but Derek gave me a knowing smile. I bet he could smell it or some shit. Fucking creepy as hell!

"I don't think I can stop him now," I muttered, my words shaky.

Derek leaned forward and said using a low gravelly voice, "Trust me. You're going to want to." His voice was so chilling that any arousal I previously felt turned to stone cold fear. Suddenly I was gripped tightly on the arm and yanked from the vehicle. I was so startled when it happened that I literally yelped. It turned out to be my dad and he dragged me away from the cruiser painfully by the shoulder with me complaining the whole way. Finally when we had put some distance between us and the murder suspect, he let me go.

"There," the Sheriff grunted. "Stand. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just trying to help," I told him.

"How about you help me understand exactly how you came across this," my dad retorted.

I sighed. "We were looking for Scott's inhaler."

"Which he dropped when?"

"The other night," I elaborated.

"The other night when you were out here looking for the first half of the body?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

"The night you told me you were alone and Scott was at home," my father prompted.

"Yes!" And then I realized my mistake. "Wait. No! Shit."

"Language, young lady," my dad warned. "So you lied to me?"

"That depends on how you define lying." Maybe I'd be able to smart-ass my way out of this situation. It didn't work often, but it was worth a try.

"I define it as not telling the truth," he replied. "How do you define it?"

"You know," I scrambled for a response. "Reclining your body in a horizontal position."

The Sheriff stared at me unamused. "Get the hell out of here."

I gave my dad a thumbs up and proceeded to fast-walk back to the jeep where Scott and his judgemental eyes were waiting. Not once did I look back, but I knew that Derek's eyes were on me.

"Dude." Scott shook his head. "What the hell?"

"I told you I was going to have a conversation with him," I reminded Scott while climbing into the jeep. He walked around to the passenger side and got in. "I felt this was the best time to do it."

Scott didn't say anything as we began our drive away from the Hale property. He kept his eyes looking out the window. Whether he was scanning the trees or deep in thought, I couldn't tell. I took the silence as an opportunity to think. Scott shouldn't play in this game tonight. Derek had made that very clear. Back on the subject of Derek, who was the girl he killed exactly? Why could she turn into a werewolf? What was with the spiral of wolfsbane around her grave?

"Hey," I got Scott's attention. "Do me a favor. See what wolfsbane has to do with burial on your phone." Scott pulled out his phone and began searching. It was nice to see him doing something productive instead of sulking.

"I can't find anything," Scott said after a while.

"Just keep looking," I said. "Maybe it's like a ritual or something. Maybe they bury you as a wolf. Or maybe it's a special skill, something you have to learn." I looked over at Scott who was still typing away furiously on his phone. It would be so goddamn cool if he could turn into a wolf.

"I'll put on my to do list," Scott wheezed, "right after I figure out how I'm going to play this game tonight."

"Maybe it's different for girl werewolves," I continued.

"Ok!" Scott exclaimed. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" I asked. Scott didn't look too hot.

"Stop saying werewolves," Scott continued to rant angrily. "Stop enjoying this so much!"

Was I smiling? I usually tried not to smile about this stuff around Scott. Plus, it wasn't my fault that I enjoyed solving mysteries with a werewolf sidekick. I glanced at Scott and he looked awful. He looked clammy and his entire face was covered in a sheen of sweat. His breaths were ragged, but I didn't know if he felt nauseous or was just pissed.

"Are you ok?" I asked concerned.

"No!" he yelled back. "No I'm not! I'm so far from being ok!" His face contorted in pain and it looked like he was about to throw up. I thought that reality was finally crashing down on him. The same thing happened to me after my mother had died. I acted like I was fine and then a few days before her funeral I had a panic attack. I had a complete sobbing meltdown and refused to leave my room for two days. Scott and my dad tried with all they had to calm me down, but I just couldn't. Turns out I was going through denial.

"Look," I said, attempting to calm Scott down, "you're going to have to accept this, Scott. Sooner or later."

"I can't," Scott said through heavy breaths.

"You're gonna have to," I pressed.

"No," Scott huffed. Before I could lecture him any further he said, "I can't breathe." He let out a painful grunt and slammed his hand on the roof of the car.

"Whoa," I said shocked. I didn't know what werewolves were capable of during panic attacks. The car began to swerve a little as a panic attacked threatened to overtake me as well.

"Pull over," Scott demanded.

"Why? What's happening?" This definitely didn't look like any panic attack I'd ever seen before. It was more like he was drugged. Scott didn't answer me because his attention was drawn elsewhere. He opened up my backpack and rifled through it. Suddenly, he found what he was looking for; the wolfsbane rope I had so haphazardly thrown in there the previous night.

"You kept it?" Scott asked accusingly, a part of the offending rope in his hands.

"What was I supposed to do with it?" I defended. I had no idea that it was going to make him sick. He seemed fine around it last night.

"Stop the car!"

Scott's voice was deep and full of rage. His eyes had flashed golden yellow and I wasn't too keen on what could follow. I decided to do what he said and slammed on the brakes. The car swerved a little, but eventually came to a stop. I put the car into park, grabbed my backpack, and exited the car. I decided to throw the wolfsbane, backpack and all, as far into the trees as I could. I just wanted to get it away from him. As soon as it had landed a good distance away, I turned around to head back to the car.

"Ok," I sighed in relief. "We're good. We just-"

I looked back at my car to find it empty, the passenger door ajar.

"Scott?" I asked quietly. Obviously I was talking to myself because the boy was nowhere in sight.

"Fuck my life," I whispered to the empty air. I had no idea what that wolfsbane had done to him, but it was now my job to find my possibly wolfed out friend. Again. Seriously, was this going to become a regular thing with us? He freaks out and I drive around the woods looking for him? I hoped not. All that aside, I climbed in my jeep and began my drive out of the woods and into town. I decided to call dispatch and see if anyone had reported someone acting strange. They were no help and reminded me I couldn't call them whenever I felt like it just because I was the Sheriff's daughter. Then what was the fucking point of being the Sheriff's daughter if I didn't get any special favors?

Dusk had fallen by the time I got back into town. I searched almost every back street, alley way, and wherever else a werewolf might decide to lurk. The game started at 7:00, but I was fairly confident that neither Scott nor I would make it. Just as I was about to give up the search, I got a miraculous phone call; it was Scott. I answered instantaneously.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Don't be mad," he said from the other end. For some reason he didn't sound freaked out or nervous. He actually sounded kinda happy.

"Of course not," I said sarcastically. I kinda regretted being so snobby with him because it was me who had taken the wolfsbane with me and inadvertently caused him to lose his shit. But no, I was still mad at him.

"Listen, I don't know what happened," Scott said after a moment. "I kinda went into this haze and found myself at Allison's house-"

"Of course," I mumbled, interrupting him. "Why would I think any different?"

"Anyway," Scott continued, "I got control back for just a second, and then her dad hit me with his car, and now they're both coming to the game, so I have to play."

"Yes, logical conclusion," I mocked.

"Stiles," Scott whined. "This is important to me. I have to play tonight. And it doesn't matter what you or Derek or anybody says. I have to do this. Not just for Allison, but for myself too. This is my chance to have a semi-fucking-normal life."

His colored language took me back slightly. It was clear that I was the potty mouth in our relationship. When Scott swore, it meant he was serious. After hearing what he had said, I knew he truly was serious about all of this. I wanted him to have a somewhat normal life too.

"Alright, fine. I get it and I totally support you. Go kill them out there." Then realizing my choice of words I added, "But don't actually kill anybody. I just hope you know what you're doing out there." Scott didn't say a word, so I knew he had no clue what he was doing.

"Just try not to worry too much when you're out there," I offered. "Or get too angry."

"I got it," Scott muttered.

"Or stressed," I added. "Don't think about Allison being in the stands. Or that her father is trying to kill you." I couldn't stop adding things because I couldn't stop thinking of things to be worried about. "Or that Derek's trying to kill you. Or the girl he killed. Or that you might kill someone. If a hunter doesn't kill you first. Or if-"

"Stiles," Scott said firmly. "Shut the hell up."

"Right. I'll stop. I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Scott said sarcastically.

"I'm going to be there the whole time," I reminded him. "Good luck."

I hung up the phone and began the drive to our high school. The parking lot was packed and hundreds of parents and teenagers crowded around the field. Concession stands were set up everywhere and merchandise was being sold. Lacrosse at Beacon Hills was huge. It was like our football season. I managed to find a parking space not too far from the field and headed toward the bleachers. I saw Ms. McCall getting her seat and decided to join her.

"Oh, hi Stiles," she said pleasantly. She smiled and patted the space next to her. I sat and we both looked to the field to try and find Scott. We eventually spotted him and his mother waved enthusiastically. I just looked at him queasily.

"So Scott told me about the whole Coach thing," Ms. McCall said. Of course he did. I didn't really mind though. Melissa was my girl.

"It's bullshit," she said. She looked at me and then looked away with a smile, clearly embarrassed at her use of profanity. This was one of the reasons I loved her.

"No," I said, "you're right. It is. But it's fine. I'll get over it."

"If you ever need to talk about it," she soothed, "you know where to find me." She looked at me with all the love and affection only a mother could. She truly was like a mother to me.

"Thanks," I replied with a smile, "but we're here for Scott."

"I'm so excited for him," she beamed. "I have no idea what he's capable of doing out there."

"Yeah, no idea," I echoed. And with that, the referee blew the whistle and the game began.


	9. Chapter 9

The game was in motion when I was suddenly surprised. My father was walking toward the stands, still in uniform, waving pleasantly at both me and Melissa. Why wasn't he at the station? He had arrested a murderer this morning. I thought maybe he handed it over to one of the deputies in order to make this game. I guess it was partly a good thing he was here because he was packing. If Scott freaked out he would at least have a weapon. He sat down next to me.

"Hello Melissa," he said smiling at her.

"Evening Sheriff," she replied with a smile of her own.

My dad put his arm around my shoulder. "Hey sweetie. Do you think we'll see any action tonight?"

"Action?" I echoed. Images of Scott ripping apart lacrosse players and then making his way toward the stands full of screaming bystanders flashed before my eyes. "Maybe."

I leaned into my dad's hold allowing his warmth to comfort me. His grip tightened and for just a split second I thought everything could be ok. Scott wasn't going to wolf out on the field. No one was going to get hurt. No one was going to die. Everything was going to be sing-a-longs and cherry pies. Yeah, I thought about all of that for just a split second and then I realized I was back in reality.

"So what are you doing here?" I asked innocently enough.

"Do you not want me here?" My dad scoffed.

"No, I do. But aren't you supposed to be taking care of a murderer or something?"

My dad chuckled softly. "I wanted to be here. First game of the season. I let the other officers take care of it." Just as I had thought. See, Stiles? Nothing to be worried about. Just a normal lacrosse game with normal lacrosse players having a good time and-

What the hell was our team doing? Scott ran around the field seeming to be in control, but the ball hadn't reached him once. He was open every step of the way, but it was as if our team refused to pass it to him. I leaned away from my dad slightly in order to see the field better. Finally one of our players made a mistake and the ball landed near Scott. Scott reacted quickly. So did Jackson. Scott didn't see that asshole coming and was knocked violently aside. Melissa and I gasped in unison and my dad clicked his tongue in disapproval. Jackson scooped up the ball and practically skipped over to the goal to make the shot like the smug little shit he was. The crowds around us erupted into applause. Mrs. McCall, my dad, and I were the only people who didn't stand in cheer.

"What the hell was that?" I said over the applause. I looked at Scott's mom who looked as concerned as I felt. For a moment I wanted Scott to wolf out and tear Jackson to pieces, but I suppressed that urge quickly. It was cruel for me to think that way. I thought that way all the time, but it was still cruel. Scott would never forgive himself he he ever hurt someone.

"Maybe Jackson didn't see him?" My dad suggested but he didn't look convinced.

"Maybe he's a dick," I replied. Dad shook his head as he and Scott's mother rose to their feet and began to clap reluctantly.

"At least we made the shot," Mrs. McCall said.

Scott picked himself up looking dazed and angry. Then he directed his attention to the stands where his anger seemed to intensify. I followed his gaze and saw what had him so pissed. Lydia and Allison were standing and cheering while holding a big sign above their heads that read "We Luv U Jackson" in big bold letters. Brutal. Scott huffed violently and returned to the field in a rage.

"Oh boy," I groaned quietly. "This is not going to be good." The two parents had taken a seat once more, as did most of the crowd.

Scott was bent over, huffing, his breath coming out white in the chill of the evening. A referee went to check on him and he nodded his head slowly but it still looked menacing. I squirmed anxiously in my seat, but the two adults I was sat next to didn't seem to notice my fidgeting. I hoped Scott got his act together soon because if he didn't he could really hurt someone or worse. And then Derek would be right. I didn't want Derek to be right ever because he was stupid and a murderer and I definitely wasn't attracted to him. Nope.

The whistle blew again. The ball flew high up in the air over two of the opposing team. They were already of up by two and it looked like it was going to be three soon. It looked that way, until Scott conveniently interfered. He ran toward the ball and jumped high in the air, catching it before it had come anywhere near the other team's sticks. Scott was directing all of his wolfy angst into the game and, hey, if it kept him from killing people, I was all for it. Plus if we won it would be cool. He bobbed and weaved his way around the other team and headed for the goal. Scott's mom bounced excitedly next to me with a huge grin plastered on her face. She looked so proud of her son and that made me happy. Scott scored the shot without breaking a sweat and this time I rose to my feet immediately cheering.

Suddenly the rest of the team, minus Jackson, was very happy to let Scott take the lead. The game continued and the other team got the ball. Before one of the opposing players could even move, Scott stood in front of him as if waiting patiently. Then the other player passed the ball to Scott and ran in the opposite direction. Scott didn't look surprised or like he cared at all.

"Did the other team just deliberately pass us the ball?" My dad asked as I chewed nervously on the drawstrings of my hoodie.

"I believe so," I confirmed.

Scott continued to sidestep oncoming players and run swiftly toward the other team's goal. They tried with all they had to stop him, but they were no match. I kinda felt bad for the other team because they really didn't stand a chance with Scott on our team. I thought having a werewolf on the team might be cheating, but then I thought, "fuck them," because I really wanted us to win this game. I'm a fan of lacrosse! What can I say? Scott seemed to emphasize my point of them not standing a chance because he made a shot that went directly through the goalie's stick and into the net. Of course the crowds, including us three in the stands, went wild. That mean we were all tied up now and there was no doubt we would win.

"Did you see that?" Mrs. McCall marveled. My father and I answered with huge smiles. Before we could celebrate any further, my dad's phone started to buzz in his pocket. He fished it out and looked down at it before frowning.

"What's wrong?" I asked over the roar of the crowd.

"It's the station," he shouted back.

"Is it important?" Melissa inquired. I could tell she really wanted him to stay.

"It might be," he admitted. "We did just book a murder suspect. I gotta take this."

The Sheriff pushed his way past screaming fans in order to take the call in a more private place. I was very curious about what the station could want or what Derek might have done. I would have gone to see what it was all about, but I made a promise to Scott that I would be there if he lost control. I just sincerely hoped he wouldn't.

The game resumed and, of course, Scott got the ball within seconds. But there was something different about the way he was moving. He was sort of crouched down as he ran, his eyes darting around the field crazily. He stopped a few feet from the goal where he was blocked off by defenders on two sides. He didn't make any attempt to go around them. He just watched both of them as if waiting. Waiting to strike. The clock counted down the seconds until the end of the game or possibly the end of someone's life.

"No Scott," I whispered in warning. "No no no. C'mon, not right now. You're so close."

"What'd you say?" Scott's mom asked me.

"Nothing," I answered as my heart sank. He couldn't attack anyone. Not yet. He would never forgive himself. Maybe Derek was right. Goddamn him for making me think that! But I was afraid he was. Oh God, this was a bad idea. There were only a few seconds left on the clock. It was now or never.

Suddenly both defenders ran at Scott and I was sure of their deaths. However, Scott pulled a move and suddenly hurled the ball forward in a burst of power. It whizzed past the heads of the other team members and landed directly in the goal. We overtook the other team by one point and then the buzzer sounded. The game was over and Scott hadn't killed anyone. Plus, we won. The fans exploded into cheers and rushed out of the stands and onto the field. People hugged and laughed because of our win, but I stayed put in the stands reveling in the fact that we had did it. Scott was ok and didn't hurt anyone. Most important of all, Derek was wrong. Suck on that, bitch!

I was about to go out to the field to find Scott and hug him for being so awesome, when I remembered my dad. I looked around the campus and found him beside one of the concession stands still talking on his phone. Scott could wait, my curiosity couldn't. He had just hung up the phone by the time I had reached him.

"So what was that about?" I questioned.

"I just got a call from the medical examiner," he sighed. "You're not going to like this."

"What?" I moaned.

"He finished running analysis on the other half of the body and found several claw marks, bite marks, and animal fibers. He's ruled it an animal attack. Derek is going to walk."

"What?!" I exclaimed appalled. Are you fucking serious? Of course it looked like and animal attack! She was attacked by someone part animal! Of course I couldn't tell my dad about that, but I was still fuming. Fucking Derek Hale.

"Stiles," my dad said, "we gotta look at the facts. It was very obvious she was killed by some sort of animal. Derek wouldn't be able to do that sort of thing. I know you'd like to think you nabbed a bad guy, but it turns out he just didn't do it."

"Has she at least been identified?" I wondered.

"Yes," my dad said warily. "This is where it gets more complicated. It turns out this girl is Laura Hale, Derek's sister. He even helped us identify her."

My mouth nearly fell open. Derek's sister? How fucked up was this guy? I mean he murdered his own sister? Jesus, the guy had issues. Well, I mean I guess I kind of understood considering his family burned alive in a fire years ago, but dude. Why murder the only family you have left?

"Son of a bitch," I muttered.

"Look," my dad tried to soothe, "you helped us find the body. Without you we would never have solved this case. You just have to accept Derek didn't do this."

I wanted to fight some more, but I held my tongue. I wasn't mad at my father. I was mad at Derek. I told my dad I would meet him at home and walked off to find Scott. Stupid Derek Hale with his skin tight t-shirts and alibis. He was a creepy motherfucker who murdered his own sister for no apparent reason. Scott would no doubt flip his lid when he heard about this. I scanned the field for him and didn't see him anywhere so I decided to check the locker rooms. Oh yes, Derek would be getting some hell from the both of us very soon. I walked into the locker rooms scanning for him. Yes sir, Scott would not be pleased when he heard-

I found Scott leaned against the lockers, Allison holding her lips to his. Damn. She pulled away and then he leaned forward for more contact. She didn't complain. They stayed lip locked for a few more moments before Allison flashed a perfect smile and Scott returned it with a starstruck look of his own. He was happy. He didn't kill anyone and now he had the girl of his dreams. I wouldn't ruin his night with the whole Derek thing. I would let him have this and tell him about all of it in the morning. Allison walked toward the exit and passed me on the way out.

"Hey Stiles," she said sweetly before leaving. I waved to her and turned around to approach Scott. A goofy looking smile was plastered on his face as if nothing could ruin his night. I knew of one thing, but I would save it for tomorrow.

"I kissed her," Scott beamed.

"I saw," I replied with a small smile.

"She kissed me." Scott's grin widened.

"Saw that too. Pretty good, huh?"

"I don't know how," Scott breathed, "but I controlled it. I pulled it back. Maybe I can do this. Maybe it's not that bad."

I smiled at Scott knowing what he would do when he heard about Derek. "Yeah. We'll talk later, then." I patted him on the shoulder before turning to leave. He caught my arm before I could go any further.

"What?" Scott queried. I knew he wouldn't let go of this until morning now that he knew I was holding back something. He was literally like a dog with a bone, pun intended. I recounted what the medical examiner said about the body and how Derek was let out of jail.

"Are you kidding?" Scott asked stunned.

"No," I snorted, "and here's an even bigger kick in the ass. My dad ID-ed the dead girl with both halves. Her name was Laura Hale."

"Hale?" Scott choked.

"Derek's sister."

Scott had to take a minute to lean against one of the lockers in order to take it all in. I leaned next to him, waiting. I knew he would take it this way.

"This is why I wanted to wait until tomorrow to tell you," I informed Scott. "I didn't want to ruin your night."

"No," Scott said at last. "I'm glad you told me. Now I know. But why would he kill his sister?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully.

"Well, we need to find out."

"Tell me about it," I said. We sat there for a few more minutes before I grabbed his hand and led him outside to my car. Before I climbed into the driver's side he surprised me and grabbed me up into a hug. It was nice, but completely unexpected. Sure, Scott and I were no strangers to touching each other. We usually had some form of contact when we were together and even tried making out when we were twelve. Neither of us liked it. Still, that didn't stop me from giving him kisses on the cheeks sometimes. I realized we hadn't really had much contact after the whole werewolf thing, but something told me that was about to change. Scott let me go and smiled warmly.

"What was that for?" I wondered with a mirrored smile.

"I don't know," he replied. "I just needed it. Is that ok."

"Of course it's ok you fucking idiot." Scott knew that was Stiles-speak for "I love you, man." Scott got into the jeep and his smile morphed from one of friendship to expression of a horny teenage boy. I knew his mind was on Allison again. Typical. I was happy for that fact. His mind was so focused on Allison that he didn't notice the dark shadow lurking in the corner of the parking lot. He didn't notice me stop to glare at the figure before continuing the drive home. And Scott definitely didn't notice the smirking glare he gave in return. No, I was glad he was thinking of Allison, because he deserved to be obsessed with her. He wasn't obsessed with Derek Hale like I was. Why was I obsessed with Derek Hale? If only I knew.


	10. Chapter 10

"So you killed her?" Of course I was talking about Allison. That was the subject matter of every single one of our conversations over the weekend. It was the last thing I wanted to hear when I got to school on Monday, but I knew that was what Scott was going to bring up. Scott had a date with her coming up and it was all he could talk about. She occupied every single one of his thoughts. Made sense that his violent dreams of murder would star her too.

"I don't know," Scott said. "I just woke up." Scott had just finished recounting his vivid nightmare of murdering Allison on a bus. Not that I would ever say it outloud, but that seemed like a very possible outcome of their relationship. She was dating a werewolf after all. Shit was bound to happen.

"I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe," Scott continued. "I've never had a dream where I've woken up like that before."

"Really? I have." I remembered waking up after first considering the possibility Scott could be a werewolf. That dream was so vivid and real. "Usually ends a little differently." I smiled after saying the last part in order to imply I was talking about something different. Scott looked at me disgusted and I knew it had worked. I didn't want Scott to think I was afraid of him because I wasn't. Not really.

"Let me just take a guess here," I said wanting to voice my opinion.

"No," Scott interrupted. "I know. You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow. Like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

Damn. He was paying attention. "No, of course not." Pause for comedic sarcasm. "Yeah that's totally it." I always jump at any opportunity to put a humorous spin on violent murder. Scott didn't seem amused. "C'mon. It's gonna be fine. Personally I think you're handling this pretty freaking amazingly. There's not like a 'Lycanthropy for Beginners' class that you can take."

"Not a class," Scott said, "but maybe a teacher."

It took a moment for me to figure out who he was talking about. When I did, I was filled with the white hot rage and burning curiosity that only came when Derek Hale was mentioned. "Who, Derek?" That prompted me to smack Scott in the back of the head. It probably didn't hurt him, but it's the thought that counts. "You're forgetting the part where we tossed him in jail." Like he would ever help us. Like I would ever let him.

"I know," Scott said, "but chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real."

"How real," I inquired, still fuming over Derek.

"Like it actually happened."

We were heading outside in order to take a shortcut to our first period class. When we pushed open the back doors we were met with a gruesome site. A bus was sealed off with police tape and it was apparent a bloody crime had gone done near the back. The emergency door in the back was horribly bent and disfigured. Blood covered it entirely and it looked like a trail of it lead into the bus. From Scott's mortified expression on his face, I knew this was the bus from his dream. From his memory.

"Scott," I whispered. "I think it did happen."

Scott was speechless and looked nauseated. I only hoped he wouldn't freak out and kill somebody right now. Suddenly and without warning, Scott turned around and legged it back inside the school. I followed quickly and when I caught up with him, he had already sent 10 text messages to Allison. This looked bad. Really bad. But I mean, why would he kill Allison? He was freaking in love with her. Why would he do that? Holy shit, did he kill her?

"Has she responded?" I asked anxiously. We were still walking swiftly down the hallway looking for the dark haired girl.

"Oh my God," Scott groaned, still sending texts.

"She's probably fine," I reassured. I didn't want him freaking out right now.

"She's not answering my texts, Stiles," Scott moaned.

"Could just be a coincidence," I suggested. Ok, not even I believed that one. "A seriously amazing coincidence." We still couldn't find her in the halls.

"Just help me find her, ok?" Scott put on a sudden burst of speed and I staggered trying to keep up with him. I looked around me again and when I didn't see her I turned back toward Scott. He wasn't there. Fuck. He must of sped up again.

"Goddammit Scott," I muttered. Why was he always doing this? Whatever. I had to keep looking for Allison myself. I ran up and down all the hallways but couldn't find her. She could just be sick. Or injured. Or dead. Oh, fuck me. I was doubling back to the entrance when the principal came on over the intercom and said that classes would still resume despite the whole bus fiasco. Well, great. Thank you, that's exactly what I needed to hear. I was walking down the stairs and past Allison when-wait. What? Allison? Allison! I grabbed her arm before she could continue walking any further.

"Oh hey," she said pleasantly. She smiled brightly. She was completely fine. Oh, thank God.

"Hey," I said back. "Didn't see you since the game." Awkward silence. "So how was your weekend?" I realized I was still holding onto her arm and let it go, moving my hands to inside the pockets of my jacket.

"It was fine," Allison said. "Didn't really do much. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you talk to Scott at all this weekend?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied. Where was this going?

"Did he talk about me at all?" Oh, of course.

"When didn't he talk about you," I answered honestly. "You're all that's on his mind. Seriously, he never shuts up. Like ever."

Allison smiled widely. "Well, that's good to know. Hey we can talk more at lunch. I gotta get to class."

"Oh yeah," I said walking backwards, almost tripping. "Me too." Did she say she was gonna eat lunch with us? Scott and I always ate alone. It was our thing. I had no intentions of being the third wheel. Still, it would be nice to have a girl to talk to for once. Scott just gets weirded out by all my feminine issues. Rightly so, women are fucking complex. I left Allison and walked toward my first period. I saw Scott smiling and knew he knew Allison was alive. It wasn't until my least favorite class, Chemistry, with my least favorite teacher, Mr. Harrison, that I was able to talk to him. We were sat at lab tables just opposite of each other.

"So I guess you know Allison is all right," I said in a hushed whisper. Didn't want Harrison to hear us.

"Yeah," Scott answered. "I was so worried. But even though she's ok, something still happened."

"There sure was a lot of blood," I said looking out the window. We had a perfect view of the crime scene from this classroom.

"Maybe it was my blood on the door," Scott suggested.

"Could've been animal blood," I thought out loud. "Maybe you caught a rabbit or something."

"And did what?" Scott asked.

"Ate it." What else would he have done with it?

"Raw?" Scott asked mortified.

"No you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven," I mocked. "I don't know. You're the one who can't remember anything."

"Miss Stilinski," Mr. Harris boomed. Hearing his voice ticked me off. I really didn't like him. And of course he singles me out because he apparently doesn't like me either.

"If that's your idea of a hushed whisper," he continued, "then maybe you should pull the headphones out every once and awhile." Um, excuse you? I only snorted instead of throwing out a string of profanities.

"Maybe you and Mr. McCall would benefit from some distance, yes?" Scott and I locked eyes before I looked back at Mr. Harris.

"No," I whined. I didn't really like being too far away from Scott, even more so now. Mr. Harris only responded by pointing at me and then at a seat at the back of the room. Reluctantly Scott and I both got up and moved to different seats away from each other.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much," Mr. Harris sneered. I laughed sarcastically in response and then said under my breath, "You are so fucking funny." I hoped Scott would be able to hear that. I wasn't even able to reorganize all my stuff until a girl stood up and pointed out the window.

"I think they found something!" she exclaimed.

Every student, Scott and I included, jumped out of our seats and rushed to gather around the window. A man was being taken into an ambulance on a stretcher. His clothes were torn up and bloody.

"That's not a rabbit," Scott murmured. His face was pale.

The man suddenly sprang awake with a loud scream. The entire class jumped and stepped away from the window. The man struggled, trying to get off the gurney, but the paramedics held him down and put him in the ambulance.

"Ok this is good," I said to Scott, but mostly to myself. He had backed away from everyone else now. I went up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "He's not dead. He got up. Dead people can't do that."

I looked into his eyes silently pleading for a response. Scott looked like he was about to cry and if he cried I was going to cry. Couldn't have that now could we?

Scott took in a shaky breath. "Stiles." He swallowed anxiously. "I did that." He clutched my shoulder for support and unsteadily made his way back to his seat. He looked as though he was about to collapse.

"Hey," I said putting my arm around his shoulder. "We don't know that for sure. Maybe it was Derek and he did this just to freak you out. That's the kind of bullshit that asshole would pull." And I swore to God that if did do this to mess with Scott I wouldn't mind giving him a smack. With my jeep.

"I don't know," Scott whispered as he sat. "I still have the memory. What if-"

"Alright," Mr. Harris interrupted. His attention wasn't directed at us but rather the group of students still frantically murmuring by the window. "We still have a class to do. Lunch is next period. You can talk and speculate then. For now, please return to your seats."

Everyone began to sit back down and Mr. Harris' eyes fell on me and Scott. "The policy between you two still stands." He pointed me to the back of the classroom.

"Are you serious?" I complained. Scott was still shaking under my hands.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Mr. Harris rebutted. I huffed out angrily but rose to me feet. Who the hell did this asshole think is?

"We'll talk at lunch," I whispered to Scott before leaving. He nodded silently.

"Perhaps you should take a lock of his hair to remember him by while you're apart," Mr. Harris snickered. The class awkwardly giggled, but when they saw my face they shut up immediately. I wasn't sure what my face looked like right now, but it probably wasn't pretty. As I sat down at the back of the class, I was having trouble deciding whether I hated Derek or Mr. Harris more. I looked at Scott and when I thought about everything Derek did and was probably going to do to him, there was no contest.


	11. Chapter 11

"What even makes you so sure that Derek has all the answers?" Scott and I both sat down at our regular lunch table. Scott was still adamant about going to Derek for help. That was exactly what that creeper-wolf wanted, stupid boy!

"Because," Scott whined, "during the full moon he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy."

"You don't know that," I reminded Scott. Thankfully he had calmed down since Chemistry but he was still shaken up.

"I don't not know it." Scott looked away distraught, but decided. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."

"What? No way," I interjected. "You're not cancelling. You can't just cancel your entire life. We'll figure it out." I smiled at him while finishing peeling an orange.

"Figure what out?"

The voice came from next to us and I didn't even have to look up to see who it was. I stared up disgustedly at the strawberry blonde. Lydia had set her lunch tray down and was beginning to take a seat. Ok, now I was confused.

"Uh," Scott stuttered. "Just homework." He turned to look at me with the same confused expression. Lydia smirked at me and I gave her an equally fake and forced smile in return. I leaned away from her and turned my head the other way. Scott did the same.

"Why the fuck is she sitting with us?" I asked under my breath with clear annoyance. Scott only shrugged in response.

Suddenly it wasn't just us three anymore. More people came to take their seats at our usually secluded lunch table. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown before I saw the reason these popular kids were sitting with us. Allison appeared next to Scott and set her lunch tray down at the seat Scott's backpack was occupying. He moved it quickly and let her sit down, smiling like an idiot. Now I understood. When Allison said she was sitting with us, she meant _all_ of her. So this was how it was going to end. Scott gets whisked away by the most popular kids in school and little ol' Stiles gets left in the dust. I wouldn't normally mind half of these people, but Lydia and Jackson were crossing the line.

"So I heard it was some kind of animal attack," Danny said from the seat at my right. "Probably a cougar." See, Danny I was cool with. Jackson, not so much.

"I heard it was a mountain lion," Jackson said idiotically. I rolled my eyes and began to search with my phone about the guy who was attacked. Jackson was so stupid sometimes. A cougar is a mountain lion, you fucking twat.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia said matter-of-factly just as I had thought it. I looked at her surprised. I wasn't necessarily surprised that she said something smart, but that she actually expressed how smart she could be.

When she noticed us all staring at her she quickly added, "Isn't it?" with a ditzy expression. That was one of the things I despised about Lydia Martin. Lydia was _smart_. And I mean incredibly smart. No one else really saw it, she didn't let them, but I did. She was so worried about her status she wouldn't let people see her intelligence. She only cared about her looks. Well if I was as smart and beautiful as her, I would show off both. She just tossed it away. And that pissed me off.

"Who cares?" Jackson sneered. "That guy is probably some homeless tweaker who is gonna die anyway." Wow. What a fucking Saint. Just then I found what I was looking for on my phone.

"Actually I just found out who it is," I informed the group. "Check it out." I stretched out my hand to the middle of the table so everyone could get a good view of the video. The video showed my dad surveying the scene and revealed the identity of the mauled man to be a one Garrison Myers.

"Wait," Scott said. "I know this guy."

"You do?" Allison queried.

"Yeah," Scott continued, "when I used to take the bus. He was the driver." Scott and I exchanged and uneasy glance. Sure, it wasn't Allison, but Scott still had a connection to this guy. This was looking bad.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia asked prissily and I wanted to ring her perfect throat. "Like, where are we going to tomorrow?" Her question was directed at Allison. Scott and Allison looked at Lydia slightly perplexed.

'"You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night," she clarified. Oh. Ouch.

Allison swallowed her food nervously. "Well, we were thinking of what we were going to do." Oh, buddy. That's rough. I couldn't even look Scott in the eyes I was so embarrassed for him.

"Well," Lydia continued, "I'm not staying at home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we're doing something fun." She included Jackson in "the four of us." This just got worse and worse.

"Hanging out?" Scott said with eyebrows raised, eyes filled with sudden panic. "Like the four of us?" Scott tried to look to me for help, but all I could do was cover my mouth in shock.

"Do you wanna hang out?" Scott asked Allison. "Like, us and _them_?"

"Yeah," she finally said with a forced smile. "I mean, I guess it sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson grunted. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork." What a fucking tool. Like piss off, seriously.

The rest of lunch was like watching a car wreck. I tried to tune most of it out, especially when the four best friends decided what they were going to do; go bowling. And Scott even had the nerve to say he was a great bowler. Fuck off! The last time we went bowling we were eight. He was using the kiddie bumpers and still managed to get a gutter ball. Like, seriously, how does that even happen? And that dreaded phrase kept being said...

"Hang out," I moaned as we walked down the hallway, thankful school was finally out. "You don't 'hang out' with hot girls. It's like death."

"I hang out with you," Scott said eyes forward.

"But do you honestly think I'm hot?" I asked dubiously.

His eyes scanned me over. "Nope." Wow, gee thanks. Scott quickly saw his mistake.

"Not that I don't think other people find you hot," Scott blundered. "I mean, you probably are, but it's like you're my sister. I just can't think of you that way. Oh God, stop making me think about it."

Really? Scott thought I was attractive to other guys? I never really thought of myself being hot. Cute maybe, but definitely not hot.

"I just don't even know what's happening," Scott whined. "I either killed a guy or I didn't."

"Do you know of any guys who find me hot?" I wondered. I wondered if Jared from our English class thought I was hot. He was pretty cute and a lacrosse player, but not a dick like Jackson.

"I ask Allison on a date and now we're hanging out," Scott continued to complain, although I didn't really hear him.

"Do you think Jared and I would be cute together?" I asked Scott with eager eyes. Not that I particularly liked Jared, but he was nice enough. I was desperate, what can I say?

"I make first line and the team Captain wants to destroy me and now," Scott checked his phone. He sighed. "Now I'm gonna be late for work." He sped up and walked out the front of the school, not waiting for me. Rude.

"Wait, Scott!" I called. "Would Jared and I make a cute couple? You never answered my question..." I sighed and walked to my car slowly. Was I so desperate I was willing to settle for Jared? He was nice, but I didn't really like him in that way. I wasn't the type of girl to get crushes on guys. The only time I ever really had a crush on boy was during fifth grade when I had a crush on Scott for like 7 minutes, but I was going through a weird time.

I drove home in silence allowing my mind to simmer in these thoughts before I realized I was completely off topic and wow holy shit I was a horrible best friend. As soon as I got home I sent a few quick texts to Scott, letting him know I hadn't forgotten about him completely. I was trying to focus on finishing some homework when he replied, about a few hours later. His text was in capital letters and nearly made my heart stop.

_BUS DRIVER NOT OK. GOIN TO DEREK TO GET SOME ANSWERS. IM SORRY._

I had to reread a few times to fully grasp what he was saying. Despite my better judgement, Scott was deciding to ignore me and go to the murderer for help. Fucking Derek Hale. I wasn't sure of what to do at this moment. I wanted to get in my jeep and blow up Derek Hale's house with a fucking nuke, but that wasn't going to happen. I also wanted to scream and slap Scott across the face. I would never be able to fully bring myself to do that either. Instead of doing either of those things, I sat quietly on my bed and hoped to God the Scott knew what he was doing. I began to hyperventilate when I realized of course he had no idea what he was doing.

I still wasn't completely sure how Scott had talked me into this. Surely any of Derek Hale's ideas were somehow going to backfire and blow up in our faces. But no, Scott decides to trust the psychotic murderer and go back to the scene where he might have possibly killed somebody. He also had the audacity of telling me to "keep watch" which roughly translated into "stay out of the way and let the werewolf take care of this." It was completely unfair that just because he had all the supernatural abilities he got to be Batman and I was Robin. Scott wouldn't even humor me and let me have that metaphor.

I sat in my jeep lightly tapping on the steering wheel, occasionally looking out into the darkened lot of school buses and checking to see if the patrol was coming around. Apparently Derek said if Scott went back to crime scene he might start to remember shit. What the hell did he know anyway? Derek probably wanted Scott to go back just so he would freak out, kill me, and then they could both skip off into the sunset and create more mischief. Well sorry, Mr. Hale. Scott was all mine. I tapped even more furiously on the steering wheel the more anxious I got.

Suddenly I saw lights coming toward the row of buses and remembered my job. I honked the horn vigorously, letting Scott know to get the hell out of there. I hoped that werewolf hearing didn't go completely to waste. Thankfully I saw him speeding across the parking lot before the lights got too close. He jumped on the hood of a car and front flipped over the fence enclosing the lot. Seriously, was that necessary? I didn't have time to ask him because the patrol was almost around the corner. Scott hopped in the passenger side and I peeled out while he was still closing the door. I will admit, I did have the Mission Impossible theme music running through my head the entire time. It was pretty fucking cool. I felt like I just pulled off a heist or something.

"So?" I prodded while we were both still panting from the thrill. "Did it work? Do you remember?"

"Yeah," Scott said. "I was there last night. And the blood, a lot of it was mine."

"So you did attack him?" I questioned still confused. If a lot of the blood was his it meant the bus driver fought back, right?

"No," Scott continued. "I saw glowing eyes on the bus, but they weren't mine. It was Derek."

Son of a bitch. "What about the driver?"

"I think I was actually trying to protect him," Scott said with a small smile creeping onto his face. I understood why he was smiling. Scott didn't attack the bus driver. He had tried to help him. I felt that same joy as well, but I was still confused about one thing.

"Why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver?" It made no sense.

"That's what I don't get," Scott said, the smile gone now.

"It's gotta be a pack thing," I speculated.

"What do you mean?"

"Like an initiation," I continued, my own theory taking shape. "You do the kill together." You know what they say after all. The pack that kills together stays together.

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience?" Scott snorted.

"Yeah," I said, "but you didn't do it. So that means you're not a killer. It also means that-"

"I can go out with Allison," Scott finished with that stupid grin he got only when talking about Allison.

"I was gonna say it means you won't kill me," I informed him. Thanks of thinking of me first Scott. You're the best.

"Oh yeah," Scott said with the same idiotic expression. "That too."

I snorted and shook my head, turning my attention back to the road. Un-fucking-believable. I dropped Scott off at his house and got back to mine, very careful not wake my dad. There was a police enforced curfew and my dad was the Sheriff after all. I slept that night a little better knowing Scott wasn't a killer. It wasn't like I had ever really doubted him, but it was nice to know for sure. Despite being a werewolf, Scott was still the best friend I had come to know and love. No one, not even Derek Hale, was ever going to change that.

The next day at school, Scott couldn't stop smiling. He was so happy about his date with Allison, even if it was a group date. Mr. Harris was still being a dick, but didn't split us up that day. Allison and her crew sat with us a lunch again and I almost slit my own throat with a plastic knife. Lydia couldn't stop talking about how excited she was for their evening and kept monopolizing the conversation. Allison and Scott were holding hands under the table, which was kinda cute, but the way they were looking at each other made me sick. I almost vomited when Lydia and Jackson started making out. Basically, lunch consisted of me sitting there awkwardly silent and being made hyper aware of my own singleness. Scott never did tell me which guys thought I was hot. After the school day was over, Scott and I went back to his place so he could mentally and physically prepare for his date.

"I don't know what's gonna happen with Jackson there," Scott worried while laying on his bed.

"He's gonna be a douche as usual," I supplied from his office chair. "And probably a cock-block."

"Oh God," Scott groaned. "I hope not."

"Relax," I snorted. "It's not like you're getting in her panties tonight. Would you even know what to do?"

"Uh," Scott stuttered, his face turning crimson. "Maybe. I've seen those videos you've shown me."

I knew exactly the ones he was talking about. "Trust me, the things the people in those videos were doing should definitely not be tried on a first date."

Scott couldn't even bare to look me in the eye and he reddened even more. He flipped over and moaned loudly into his pillow. I couldn't help but laugh. It was amazing how calm I could be about the most socially awkward situations. Just then Scott's mom, wearing her nurse's uniform, knocked lightly on his open door.

"Hey," she said. "I'm working late tonight so you're gonna have to find something to eat."

"Or," Scott replied while rolling back over, "you could give me your car keys and I'll get something to eat on my date."

"Scott," she complained. "There's a curfew. We've been over this."

"I'll be back before curfew," Scott whined. "Just please. Please?" He looked at her with some of the most intense puppy eyes I had ever seen.

"C'mon," I interjected. "How can you say no to that face?"

Scott's mom sighed. "Fine." She tossed him her keys which he caught easily. "I'll get a ride with someone. Just be careful, ok?"

"Ok," Scott said triumphantly. Melissa rolled her eyes and walked away from the door.

"See?" I said. "Things keep getting better and better."

"Yeah," Scott said with a smile. "I guess so."

"Hey, I gotta run." The sky was dark outside. "I'll let you get ready for your date, you sly dog you." I got up a patted him lightly on the shoulder as I passed him. I walked down stairs and said goodbye to his mother before exiting the front door.

When I got home I saw my dad's police cruiser wasn't there. Working late nights again. I wasn't comfortable with him being out this late or even getting too close to this case. He had no idea what was actually out there and could get himself hurt. That was the last thing I wanted and it made me sick to even think about it. I decided to try and take my mind off the subject by doing some homework. Harris completely overloaded us on the weekends because he was an asshole. I had almost finished my essay about the element of gold and how it's found in semen, even though that wasn't entirely what my essay was supposed to be about, when I heard my father slam the front door. I checked my clock and realized it was already ten o'clock. I went downstairs to see him and saw immediately in his face something was up.

"What's wrong?" I asked warily.

"It's Garrison Myers," my dad said with worry lines wrinkling his forehead, "the bus driver. I just got back from the hospital. He succumbed to his wounds only a few minutes ago."

"What?" I asked shocked.

"Something caused him to go into traumatic shock and he died," my dad elaborated.

"Oh my God." I was utterly shocked but at the same time fucking furious. I knew exactly what that "something" that caused him to go into shock was. Or should I say who. Scott needed to know about this ASAP.

"Are you taking a shower?" I asked my dad.

"I was planning on it," he answered. "Why? Did you want to take one first?"

No. Just seeing if you were going to be distracted by doing something so I could sneak out. "No. I took one this morning. I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Ok, kiddo." My dad ruffled my hair with his hand. "Goodnight."

I ran back up the stairs and locked my bedroom door. I sent Scott a few text messages and then, when he didn't respond, called him a couple times. I got sent straight to voicemail. I guess I was going out after all. I waited until I heard the shower turn on and carefully climbed out my window. Years of practice allowed me to easily make it to the grass without hurting myself. On the way to Scott's I couldn't help but fume over Derek. That asshole had killed that man so he wouldn't get caught. Hell, he probably smothered him with a pillow. Derek was fucking dangerous and even thinking about him made my heart race. When Scott found out the bus driver died, he was going to freak. He would confront Derek and go ape-shit on him. I didn't really want that to happen, but I felt obligated to tell him what happened.

I parked my car a few houses away from Scott's, just incase his mom or someone got suspicious. I walked down the sidewalk until I was in front of Scott's house. His mom's car wasn't in the drive so I suspected he wasn't home yet. I climbed up the side if his house using the drain pipe, something else I learned to do with years of practice. His room was completely dark. I slid the window open and climbed inside, landing softly on his bed. When I looked up I was being rushed by a dark figure wielding a blunt object of some kind. I screamed out and the figure screamed as well. I tried to back away until I could see by the light of the moon that it was only Mrs. McCall. She huffed out and dropped the baseball bat to her side. What was with the McCall family and attacking me with baseball bats?

"Stiles," she sighed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What am I doing?" I asked loudly. I gestured toward the bat. "Do either of you even play baseball?" The light suddenly flicked on and Scott was standing in the room. He looked extremely confused.

"Can you please tell your friend to use the front door?" she asked her son.

"But we lock the front door," Scott reminded her. "She wouldn't be able to get in." Yeah. We'd been using this system for years.

"Exactly," Melissa retorted, looking at me. Well then. I guess I wasn't welcome.

"And by the way," she continued, "do either of you care that there's a police enforced curfew?"

"No," Scott and I said simultaneously.

"Alright then," Scott's mom replied. "You know what? That's enough parenting for me for one night." She threw the baseball bat onto Scott's bed. "Goodnight." She then exited the room. Scott laughed breathily and said goodnight in return. He went to put his stuff down at his desk and I sighed. This was going to be tough.

"What?" Scott asked. He sat down in his office chair.

"My dad got back from the hospital 15 minutes ago," I informed him. "It's the bus driver. They said he succumed to his wounds."

"Succumbed?" Scott echoed. Oh dear, lovable, innocent Scott.

"Scott." I swallowed thickly. "He's dead."

Scott looked away from me, shaking his head ever so slightly. Suddenly he got up and rushed out his bedroom door. I called after him, but he didn't answer or slow down. He walked out of his house and headed in the direction of the woods. I knew exactly where he was going.

"Scott!" I called again. "Scott, he's not worth it. This is exactly what he wants. Don't give him the satisfaction!"

"I have to go," Scott finally answered. "I'm not letting him hurt anymore innocent people." He sped up and there was no way I was going to catch up with him. I stopped chasing after him and watched him go, knowing I was unable to do anything to stop him. I didn't walk back to my car until Scott was completely out of sight. I felt sick to my stomach. Derek killed two people. Even though he wanted Scott in his pack, Scott already proved that he wasn't a killer. What would stop Derek from killing him now? I was so out of it that I forgot to climb back into my room through the window and just used the front door when I got home. I didn't realize my error until my dad came walking downstairs, clearly just out of the shower.

"Well hello young lady," he said crossing his arms. I was already freaking out about Scott. I didn't need my dad to be mad at me too. "Where have you been?"

"I was at Scott's," I said truthfully. "I tried to call him, but he wouldn't answer his phone. I had to tell him about the bus driver. He knew him."

My dad still looked a little disappointed but asked, "How'd he take it?"  
"Not well," I answered. "He was really upset." So upset that he was willing to take on a murderous werewolf, in fact. Oh God, if Derek hurt him...

My father could probably see the worry in my eyes because his face softened. "I'm sorry. You do realize there is a curfew, right?"

I nodded my head. "I'm sorry about that. But you know me. Don't live by no rules."

My dad snorted. "I don't want to see this happening again, especially since something's killing people out there."

"I understand," I said. "I'm gonna go to bed. For real this time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," my dad returned as I bumped his shoulder on the way up the stairs.

I didn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about Scott confronting Derek. Scott was naive and new to all this werewolf stuff. Derek had killed two people already and had been a werewolf for God knows how long. Scott stood no chance against him. I was on the verge of a panic attack when I got a phone call at midnight. I audibly shrieked with relief when I saw it was Scott. I didn't hesitate to answer.

"Are you alright?" I asked straight away.

"Yeah," he replied, but he sounded shaken up.

"Oh God, what happened."

"Well," Scott said, "you are never gonna believe me."

Oh, fuck. "What?"

"Derek didn't bite me."

I must have misheard him. "Come again?"

"Derek didn't bite me," Scott repeated. "He told me only alpha werewolves have the ability to turn people and he's not an alpha."

"Wait," I said, processing this new information. "If he's not an alpha, then that means-"

"Yep," Scott finished my thought. "There's another werewolf in Beacon Hills."

Well, shit.


End file.
